Raider's Web
by andrewjameswilliams
Summary: A ruthless industrialist hatches a devious plot to steal the secrets of international rescue while Scott wrestles with a deep personal dilemma. please read and review
1. Chapter 1

**Raider's Web**

Authors Note: Takes place two years after the events of the movie.

**

* * *

Chapter One**

**Satoza Enterprises Headquarters Tower**

**Manhattan**

Alexander Satoza frowned in displeasure as he read the latest report from the accounts department. Profits were down for the second quarter in a row, especially in the aerospace arm of his company. The losses were caused by a fall in sales of small aircraft, though sales of spare parts were still doing well.

He knew full well what had caused those losses in an area where they'd previously been doing well. Six months ago, the aerospace wing of Tracy Industries had brought the Swiftwind luxury personal jet on the market The Swiftwind was sleeker, more luxurious, more fuel-efficient and generally a lot faster than any other model currently available. The deployment and lightning success of the new jet had caught all the other aircraft manufacturers off guard, and they were paying for it while scrambling to come up with their own version.

_Why is it that whenever Tracy Industries_ _introduces a new product, it always takes off?_ Alexander asked himself, and not for the first time. He also felt a twinge of jealousy; again, not for the first time. He had been well on his way towards becoming the richest businessman in the world before Jeff Tracy had appeared on the scene. How any man could go from running a tiny, single factory to owning one of the biggest corporations on the planet in a mere twenty years eluded him.

A buzz from his desktop communications panel made him jump. _Now what?_ he thought. He turned his attention away from his computer and pressed the button to receive the call from his secretary.

"Yes, Ms Thomas?" he asked.

"Sir, there is a call for you on line three. It's Doctor Avoki," Ms Thomas replied.

"Put it through."

"Yes, sir."

For a few moments nothing happened, then the desk phone began ringing. Alexander picked it up immediately.

"Doctor Avoki," he said in greeting.

"Good afternoon, Mr Satoza," Doctor Avoki replied immediately.

"What do you have for me, Doctor?"

"They are ready."

Alexander smiled hearing that. _Finally!_ he thought. There had been so many delays, so many setbacks, and so many technical glitches to overcome with the project over the last four years. He had begun to wonder if Doctor Avoki's team would ever finish.

"Excellent. Have the first batch prepared, Doctor," he replied at last. "Mr Benson will be in touch with you very shortly."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and Doctor? Well done. You can expect a sizeable bonus if they perform as expected."

"Thank you, sir."

Alexander put the phone down, then picked it up again to dial a number, a number he had dialled many times before.

"Yes?" a cool, familiar male voice answered.

"Hello, Benson. I have a job for you," Alexander replied.

"Ah, Mr Satoza. What do you wish of me?" Benson asked.

"I want you to contact my head of research and development, Doctor Avoki. I believe you have dealt with him before. He has the details of the assignment that I wish you to carry out."

"I see. I will contact the good doctor immediately. I trust payment arrangements are as normal?"

"Yes, they are."

"Then I will call Doctor Avoki as you have requested Mr Satoza. A pleasure doing business with you, as always."

"Likewise, Benson, likewise," Alexander replied before hanging up.

For a moment, Alexander just sat there in his comfortably padded leather chair, then he swivelled his chair around. He stood and walked over to the window that made up the whole of one wall and looked out across the Manhattan skyline.

After a moment, he found the building he was looking for: the Tracy Industries skyscraper. It towered above its neighbours, a hundred and fifty-five floor cone of polished glass and chrome that seemed to glow in the bright sunshine. It was a beautiful building to look at from a purely aesthetic point of view, yet from another, more important perspective, he hated the sight of it. Looking at it, he imagined he could see right into the office of Jeff Tracy himself, into the office of his greatest rival.

_Soon,_ he thought, _soon you and all the other company execs will no longer stand in my way. Soon my company will leave all of you in the dust, and there is nothing that anyone can do to stop me._

**

* * *

Wharton Academy**

**Massachusetts **

**That Same Time**

Alan Tracy sighed as he climbed out of the back of the people carrier that his dad had rented from the airport. The drive from Boston to Wharton Academy had taken much longer than it normally did. Alan stretched to loosen muscles that had cramped up in the journey here, mostly from having to sit still for so long. In the last two years he had gained a lot of additional height and weight, and sitting still for long periods in the back seat of a car tended to cramp him up after awhile.

Normally Alan would have sat in the front passenger seat as he had more legroom there but he hadn't been able to this time as Brains had come along as well. Things had improved a little after they had dropped Tin-Tin off at the exclusive Castlewood School for Girls. It had been a stop of almost half an hour where he could stretch his legs as he helped carry her things to her dorm room. He had been relieved at the time because he knew there was less than an hour from Springfield - where Castlewood was - to Pittsfield, the city nearest Wharton.

But the benefits of that stop had been soon undone. An accident in Springfield itself had blocked part of the main interstate highway, creating a stream of slow moving traffic that stretched back for several miles. A journey that would normally take about forty minutes turned into a two-hour trip.

Finishing his stretching, Alan looked at the facade of Wharton Academy's administration building, the first building anyone saw when entering the sprawling campus grounds. Not for the first time he wished he wasn't here, though he had to admit the school wasn't bad. Truth be told, he actually quite liked it, it's just he hated being away from home and from his brothers He missed what they did together, either just playing around as always or with International Rescue. But he knew that school was important as well, and what he learned here did have meaning for the future that he already knew he had. As a result, he no longer complained about coming back when a holiday - like the recent spring break - ended. He hadn't complained since that fateful school break two years ago when they had encountered The Hood. He was first to admit that that encounter had changed him. It had matured him in a way, and had shown him that there was more to being what he wanted to be; that there was more to being a Thunderbird than cool adventures and riding around in the most advanced machines the world had ever seen. He had learned that the view of it he'd had before was a child's view and he wasn't a child anymore.

Sounds behind him made Alan turn away from the building to look over at Fermat was getting out on the other side of the car. After his latest growth spurt, the now fourteen-year-old Fermat had gotten to be quite tall, though he wasn't as tall as Alan who was two years his senior after all. Puppy fat was starting to burn off and Fermat was maturing into a handsome young man.

_He still looks weird without glasses,_ Alan thought, smiling to himself. Like most teenagers, Fermat was becoming very conscious of how he appeared, and he had finally ditched wearing the large, blue rimmed glasses favoured by his father, and now wore contact lenses. It made him look a whole lot better.

"You okay, Fermat?" he asked his best friend. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed his father and Brains getting out of the car too. They wouldn't be going in with them, and this was the point where they would say goodbye for another few months.

"I'm f…f…fine, Alan," Fermat stammered back, stretching a bit. "J…j…just a little c…c…cramp."

"Sorry about that, boys," Jeff said as he went around to the back of the car and sprang the boot.

"It's okay, Dad," Alan replied. "You couldn't have known that a semi was going to jack-knife and block part of I-90. It was just one of those things."

Calmly, he approached the back with Fermat and Brains coming from the opposite direction. He helped his father retrieve the cases and bags that contained changes of clothes and everything they would need for the next school term.

In short order, the bags and cases were out and sitting on the sunbaked concrete of the path. There wasn't much: just two large cases, two backpacks and two laptop cases. Jeff closed the boot and turned to look at them.

"You ready, boys?" he asked. Alan looked at Fermat, who nodded.

"As ready as we can ever be, Dad," Alan replied. "It's just always hard coming back here after having been home."

"That's u…u…understandable," Brains said. "Y…y…you miss b…b…being home j…j…just like we miss h…h…having you around."

"Exactly," Alan replied.

"Well, it's not forever," Jeff said. "It'll be summer vacation before you know it."

"True, Dad, true," Alan answered, approaching to get a goodbye hug off his dad. Quietly, Jeff held his arms out and gave his youngest son a farewell hug as he had done every time he had dropped Alan off at school. _Though he's not a little boy anymore,_ he thought to himself. _None of them are. Where does the time go?_

"Good luck for the new term, Alan," he said softly in Alan's ear.

"Thanks, Dad," Alan replied, noticing out the corner of his eye that Fermat and Brains saying goodbye as well. "I'll miss you."

"I know. I'll miss you as well and you can bet your brothers will as well," Jeff answered.

Alan smiled softly and, after a few more moments enjoying his father's loving embrace, reluctantly pulled back. Looking across at Fermat, he saw Fermat reluctantly being released by Brains. He always hated this part of coming back, having to turn away from his father to walk into the administration building for signing in and getting his room keys back.

"Ready, Fermat?" he asked his friend. Fermat nodded. Alan turned away and carefully picked up his luggage. Fermat came over and picked up his own and then, almost as if telepathically linked, the two teenagers looked back at their respective parents. No words were spoken. No words were needed. Then they turned and walked away, heading to the entrance of the administration block.

Jeff watched his youngest son's retreating back as he walked away. He watched without saying a thing until Alan was out of sight, disappearing inside the administration building, followed, as always, by Fermat. The depth of the friendship between Alan and Fermat never ceased to surprise him. The boys were complete opposites in many ways, yet the opposing aspects of their personalities didn't make them clash, as one would expect. Instead, their differences seemed to make them perfect compliments to each other... ninety-nine percent of the time.

"It's time for us to go, Brains," Jeff said. "We have a long journey home."

"Y…y…yes, Mr Tracy. You are r…r…right," Brains agreed, looking over at his employer and friend. "We s…s…should g…g…go."

Jeff nodded and walked back around to the driver's side door, pausing for a moment to make sure that the boot door was closed properly. Satisfied that it wouldn't come open while they were driving, Jeff climbed in to the drivers seat and put his seat belt on. Glancing over at Brains, he was that the genius was ready to go. With a sigh, Jeff started the engine, shifting the car into gear, and beginning the long drive back to Boston, where Tracy One waited for the long, boring flight to Tracy Island.


	2. Chapter 2

**Raiders Web**

Authors Note: Forgot to mention this in chapter one but my personal thanks to Tikatu for agreeing to betaread this story for me.

**

* * *

Chapter Two**

**Madrid, Spain **

**Two Weeks Later**

The massive cloud of thick, black, acrid smoke hung in the air like the fallout cloud of an erupting volcano. It spread across the skyline of Madrid like an ominous black cloud of death, turning day into night. The city was silent and deserted; the normally packed streets were empty. Windows and doors were closed as every citizen sheltered from the potentially lethal danger of the toxins the cloud contained.

The source of the cloud was an industrial fire bigger than any that had been seen for nine years. Two hours before, the huge Trans-Continental Chemicals plant on the outskirts of the city had been ripped apart by a series of powerful explosions which had shattered the peace of midmorning and turned the plant into a raging inferno.

A familiar sleek, silver and blue aircraft streaked towards this scene from hell. Its passage over the skyline of Madrid didn't go unnoticed. The citizens who saw the form that everyone around the world recognised cheered, for they knew that help for the besieged city had arrived.

* * *

Scott Tracy grimaced as he guided Thunderbird One towards the burning chemical plant. Things did not look good at all. The plant was completely ablaze; the fierce dirty yellow and orange flames reached over a hundred feet into the sky, lighting up the underside of the cloud with a dull, ominous, orange glow. As he approached, another massive explosion ripped through the plant. Glowing chunks of torn metal flew into the air, only to come falling back down around the plant in a lethal hail of fragments.

Scott found it difficult to believe that there could be anyone still alive inside that inferno, but he knew there was. The chemical plant was largely automated, but a small control staff spent the bulk of their time in a large, reinforced, concrete bunker. The bunker had survived the initial explosions, but now was surrounded by debris and fire, trapping the people inside. To make matters worse, the bunker's emergency systems had been damaged by the concussive force of the blasts, and the staff only had about two hours of breathable air. Unable to see any way to get the trapped men out in time, the Spanish government had called the only people they could think of who could help: International Rescue.

Scott brought Thunderbird One into a stationary hover and assessed the situation with the aid of the forward sensors. He frowned at the information on his screens; as expected, temperatures inside the plant were extremely high. The fire was burning extremely hot, causing steel to buckle. But naturally the heat was not uniform; temperatures were higher in some areas, mostly where pipes were melting, providing additional fuel for the inferno. The fire was steadily advancing towards the main storage tanks, tanks that would be filled with a variety of dangerous chemicals. _There has to be something I can do to slow the fire down,_ Scott thought. Then it occurred to him. _Of course!_

Scott abandoned his current position and moved to where he could get a clear shot. Hands dancing over his console, he accessed the weapons system and armed two of his missiles. Thunderbird One carried four missiles. Two were meant to protect Thunderbird One should she be attacked. The other two – the two that he had armed – had a more pacifist purpose. They were designed for one thing: firefighting. Carefully, he aimed the missiles, then - quietly hoping that this worked - he pulled the trigger.

A hatch on the underside of Thunderbird One's fuselage opened, and two small projectiles dropped free, engaging their engines, speeding towards the inferno. The missiles slammed into the area of fire that was closest to the main tanks and detonated. The explosions sucked up the oxygen, snuffing out the flames around the impact points and saturating the area with fire suppressant. After a moment, the glare faded, and Scott smiled when he saw that the flames in the area near the tanks had been extinguished.

Knowing he could do nothing more from his current position, Scott got Thunderbird One moving again, heading for the control area that Spanish authorities had set up. Locating the area that had been cleared for him to land, Scott moved so he was directly over it. A flick of a switch deployed and locked the landing gear; finally he fired the VTOL jets and began his descent.

Thunderbird One touched down with more of a bump than normal and Scott frowned. _I must talk to Brains, _he thought. His hands danced across his controls, putting most of Thunderbird One's systems on standby - everything except the stealth system. _Could be the shock absorbers in the landing gear are starting to wear out again._ Scott made a mental note to speak to Brains, then put it out of his mind, as it was not relevant to the task at hand. Calmly, he stood up and went to the storage cabinets at the back of Thunderbird One's cockpit.

* * *

A few moments later, Scott climbed down a ladder that had automatically been deployed from the side of Thunderbird One. In one hand he held a small metal briefcase. As he climbed down, Scott was grateful that procedures demanded that they ware helmets and emergency breather packs when they left the Thunderbirds in the danger zone. The heads up display on the inside of his helmet showed that the air quality was very poor; the air was a cocktail of chemical fumes mixed with the normal air. It would not be pleasant to breathe and would be harmful to health with prolonged exposure.

He headed over to the control tent and entered, his appearance being greeted with relieved smiles from every one of the HAZMAT suited people in the room. Scott smiled back though naturally no one would see it as the faceplate of his helmet was silvered and only one way transparent. It hid his features and when he spoke the helmet would adjust the sound of his voice slightly so it would be more difficult to place his accent. It was all designed to hide his identity. People would know his given name from the nametag on his uniform, but other than that he would be anonymous. Anonymity was an absolute must for the members of International Rescue.

"International Rescue, we're glad that you're here," fire brigade captain Enrique Fernandez said with a smile. He surprised Scott by speaking English; it wasn't perfect but it was intelligible. "I hope you can help us put this fire out and save the people trapped inside the plant."

"We will certainly try," Scott replied. "I'll work out a plan of action. Thunderbird Two will be here soon. As soon as they arrive with the heavy equipment, we can see what we can do to put this fire out and rescue the trapped staff."

"You can set up over here," Enrique said, leading Scott over to a free area of the table where they had the plans for the chemical plant laid out. "As you can see, we have all the plans of the plant."

"Good," Scott answered. "That will help a lot."

* * *

Benson cautiously approached Thunderbird One; making sure that no one saw him. Though he was wearing a fire brigade HAZMAT suit, he knew that caution and speed were the order of the day. He had to get this done quick before anyone spotted him.

Reaching the side of the Thunderbird, Benson didn't attempt to climb the ladder to get into the cockpit. Instead, he ducked under the fuselage and approached the nose landing gear. Carefully but quickly he reached into his pocket and took out four small spheres. Each was about half the size of a tennis ball and a smooth brown colour. They looked completely inconspicuous. There was no visible sign that they were really highly sophisticated pieces of technology.

Benson quickly placed the spheres on the landing gear, wedging them into place. Then he carefully turned and headed for the landing gear section under the right wing. Once there, he placed four more spheres before going to the third and final landing gear section under the left wing, repeating his actions. Then he carefully got out from underneath Thunderbird One and walked away from her.

While he did so, he reached into his pocket and pressed a small button on a control pad that was in his pocket. After a second he heard a soft bleep from the pad and smiled. _Mission accomplished,_ he thought as he walked away. It was time to leave here now.

Quietly he slipped away into the city.

* * *

The spheres received the signal, but for a moment, nothing happened. Then the spheres began to change. A faint line of light appearing down the centre of each one, and they split in half along the glowing line. For a moment more nothing happened, then each hemispherical segment glowed and began to morph. In moments, they were no longer hemispherical segments; each had transformed into a small spider-like robot that looked exactly like a real spider.

Quietly and unnoticed by anyone, the spiders climbed up the landing gear, disappearing inside Thunderbird One, where they sat and waited.

**

* * *

Control Area**

**Ten Minutes Later**

Scott smiled when the long-range sensor feed from Thunderbird One appeared on his mobile control screen, showing Thunderbird Two coming in over the city. She would be in position to land in another few minutes, having made excellent time.

It was good that they had as conditions in the plant were deteriorating rapidly. They had lost radio contact with the people trapped in the control bunker. But the last message a few moments ago had indicated that the cooling system had lost power and temperatures inside were rising. Plus the fire was advancing once more, heading for the main tanks, overwhelming the dicetylene from the extinguisher missiles Scott had hit it with earlier.

Scott typed a command into his mobile control console and opened a communications link between his helmet radio and Thunderbird Two.

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two," he said, waiting for a response.

"Thunderbird Two to Mobile Control. Reading you loud and clear, Scott," Virgil responded immediately.

"Virgil, do you have extinguisher missiles onboard?" Scott asked. An idea had blossomed in his mind as to how they could knock a lot of the wind out of the fire. But it depended on if Virgil had any extinguisher missiles. For a moment there was silence.

"Yes, Scott, I've got three," Virgil answered at last. "Why do you ask?"

"Ok, Virgil. Here's what I want you to do," Scott said. His hands danced across his console, taking advantage of the direct feed to his console from Thunderbird Five. "I'm sending you the co-ordinates of the three largest hotspots of the fire. Take them out."

"F.A.B., Scott. Co-ordinates received."

Scott kept his eyes on his display as Thunderbird Two came in and went into a stationary hover. For a few moments nothing happened and Scott started to sweat slightly. The missile launch system was a new addition to Thunderbird Two, only added in a refit three months ago. It had never really been used in the field before, and he hoped that it hadn't decided that it was going to break down. After a moment more, three missiles dropped out of Thunderbird Two and streaked towards the plant.

Three powerful, concussive explosions from the missile warheads lit the area and Scott smiled when he saw the results on his displays. The three targeted hotspots had been eliminated; the fire there and in surrounding areas extinguished. In one blow they had deprived the fire of two-thirds of its force. As they saw what had happened, the firefighters around cheered. While they still had a big job ahead putting the fire out, the job had just been made much easier.

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two," he said into the radio. "Nice shooting."

"Thanks, Scott," Virgil answered. "Coming in to land now."

"F.A.B. Stand by to deploy the Firefly and the Mole," Scott instructed. It would be easier to burrow into the utility tunnels under the control bunker than slice a hole in the wall with the Thunderizer. It would also safer for the people in the bunker as they wouldn't have to face the heat, smoke and fumes from the fire, or walk on ground that would be scorching hot.

"F.A.B., Scott." _Now the real work starts_, Scott thought before his thoughts turned to the people trapped inside the control bunker. _Hang in there, people. We're coming. Just hold on a little bit longer, then we'll have you out of there._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Thunderbird Two**

**Five Minutes Later**

Gordon Tracy grunted softly as Virgil fixed a heavy-duty life support pack into place on his back. Since he would be operating the Firefly's open dicetylene cannon turret, he had to wear a specialised protective suit that looked somewhat like a sleeker, more high-tech, earthbound version of a spacesuit. The complex materials and technology employed in the suit would protect him from the intense heat and the toxic environment inside the plant.

"You know, I wish Brains would find a way to improve this suit," Gordon said, standing stock still as Virgil fixed in place the locking collar for the helmet.

"I know what you mean," Virgil agreed, having worn the suit himself in the past. "It's a pain to get in and out of and it's awkward to move in until you've gotten used to it."

"Exactly," Gordon replied. "That's why I hate wearing the thing. Give me a scuba diving wetsuit any day."

Virgil chuckled as he picked up the suit's helmet. It was no secret in the Tracy family that Gordon was in love with the sea, and with anything to do with being in water. He had been since he was five and had first seen the sea.

"For you, Gordon, anything relating to being in the water is the best thing in the world," Virgil said as he approached, carrying the helmet. Gordon laughed.

"True, Virg, true," he replied, still chuckling. Virgil grinned back before slipping the helmet over his younger brother's head, locking it into place and making sure all the connections were in properly and secured.

Gordon grinned when the helmet's heads up display activated and all the readings from the suit's sensors showed green. He gave Virgil a thumbs up with one gloved hand to let him know that everything was fine and that the suit's systems were working properly. Virgil smiled and gave him an acknowledging thumbs up in return.

At that moment, their father approached from where he had been preparing the Firefly. He was wearing a thinner, less complex version of the suit Gordon was wearing, as he would be driving the Firefly. Gordon would only have to worry about operating the turret and its powerful cannons.

"Ready to go, boys?" Jeff asked them.

"F.A.B., Dad," Virgil replied.

"F.A.B., Dad," Gordon echoed. Jeff smiled.

"OK, boys," he replied. "Then let's get these machines moving; the sooner we have this fire out and the trapped staff saved, the better."

"F.A.B. Dad," Gordon and Virgil chorused in unison. Jeff smiled again, then spun around and headed back towards the Firefly. Gordon followed, his footsteps echoing slightly through the primary pod thanks to the heavy boots of his suit. For his part, Virgil headed towards the Mole, ready and eager to begin his part of the rescue operation.

**

* * *

Mobile Control**

Scott looked up from his console at the sound of someone clearing their throat. He smiled behind his helmet faceplate when he saw that it was Captain Fernandez.

"Yes, Enrique?" Scott asked, the fire brigade captain had insisted that they use first names. Something that struck Scott as odd, but he was willing to go with it.

"I thought I should let you know, Scott, that we've deployed all our trucks, portable hoses and platforms around the remaining fire area," Enrique replied. "There is now only one gap in our coverage and that's one area inside the plant itself. If you can place your firefighting machine in that gap…"

"Then we can launch a massive, concentrated assault on the fire," Scott finished the statement, the smile on his face was matched by the smile in his voice.

"Precisely," Enrique answered, holding out a piece of paper. "This has the positions of all our units and how much foam each one has."

"Thank you," Scott said, accepting the list. "I'll direct Firefly to the correct position now. Then we can put this particular beast of a fire out."

"Yes."

Scott turned back to his console and added the positions of the fire appliances and deployed firefighters to the real time map he'd built of the danger zone, using a mixture of the plant's plans and Thunderbird Five's sensor feed. The gap in the coverage was obvious, deep inside the plant where the fire brigade's hoses and platforms couldn't reach.

"Mobile Control to Firefly," Scott said into his helmet radio.

"Go ahead, Scott," Jeff responded immediately.

"I have new destination co-ordinates for you, Jeff," he replied, managing not to flinch at using his father's first name, instead of just the normal Dad. Though they had been operating for close on four years, and Jeff had specifically told them to use his name, it still always felt strange to Scott to use his father's name while out in the danger zone.

"F.A.B., Scott. Ready to receive," Jeff answered.

"F.A.B., sending now." As he spoke, Scott pressed a button on his console, instantly transferring the co-ordinates of the gap in the fire coverage from Mobile Control to the Firefly.

"Co-ordinates received, Scott. Heading there now."

"F.A.B. Notify me when you're in position."

"F.A.B."

"Mole to Mobile Control," Virgil said over the radio just as Jeff signed off.

"Go ahead, Virgil," Scott answered.

"I'm in drilling position, Scott," Virgil replied.

"F.A.B., Virgil. You're clear to commence drilling. Good luck."

"F.A.B. Thanks, Scott."

"No problem."

**

* * *

Firefly Turret**

Gordon grimaced as – under the expert guidance of his father – Firefly made its way deep into the shattered chemical plant towards the remaining burning area. All around was a depressing, hellish scene of total devastation.

Still softly smoking metal was everywhere, blackened and scorched, or twisted into bizarre masses where the metal had started to melt. His suit's sensors reported that even where the fire had been put out by the earlier extinguisher missile assaults, it was still fiercely hot. It would be days before everything completely cooled down.

"What a mess," Gordon muttered to himself.

"Did you say something, Gordon?" Jeff asked along the private, two-way radio link that was constantly maintained between the Firefly's driver and turret operator.

"It's nothing," Gordon replied. "It's just this place is a mess." The edges of his lips curved up in a smile as he heard his father chuckle.

"I can't argue with that," Jeff answered. "It's almost as bad as your room."

Gordon blushed at his father's not very subtle dig at the fact that his room was in desperate need of a thorough clean. Before he could summon up a rejoinder, Firefly rounded a corner and the words died on his tongue. Directly ahead of them was the fire front.

It was a terrible sight. A short distance ahead, the road disappeared into a massive curtain of roaring, dirty, yellow-orange flames. They dominated the whole horizon, towering over them before disappearing into the overwhelming black mass of the fallout cloud. Looking at the fire, Gordon swallowed once, fighting down the deep, primal instinct that was screaming at him to run, to flee from the awesome power of the elemental force unleashed upon the chemical plant.

After a moment, Firefly began moving again, creeping forward towards the inferno. Gordon looked down at the turret controls and double checked that everything was ready to go, more for his own peace of mind than anything else.

"You ready, Gordon?" Jeff asked as he again brought Firefly to a dead stop. There was now only a few metres between the wall of flame and the front of the Firefly.

"As ready as I can be, Dad," Gordon answered. "Let's do this."

"F.A.B. Let me just let Scott know that we're in position and ready to start."

"F.A.B."

**

* * *

Mobile Control**

Scott straightened up slightly in his seat as the speakers in his helmet radio crackled to life once more.

"Firefly to Mobile Control," Jeff said. "Scott, we're in position, ready to commence attack."

"F.A.B., Jeff," Scott replied. "Stand by."

"F.A.B."

Scott turned in his seat to look over at Captain Fernandez. Enrique Fernandez broke off the conversation that he had been having with a newly arrived fire crew chief when he saw Scott turn to face him.

"Yes, Scott?" he asked.

"Firefly's in position, Enrique," Scott replied. "We're ready."

"Then let's do this," Enrique answered before using his HAZMAT suit's helmet radio. "Control to all fire units; start your pumps."

As Enrique spoke to the eagerly waiting teams of firefighters, Scott turned back to Mobile Control.

"Mobile Control to Firefly," he said into his helmet radio. "Commence attack."

"F.A.B., Scott," Jeff replied.

**

* * *

Firefly Turret**

Listening in on the main communications frequency, Gordon grinned as he heard Scott give the order he had been waiting to hear.

"Did you hear, Gordon?" Jeff asked over the private, short-range link.

"I heard, Dad," Gordon replied as he released all the safety locks on the turret and set the pumps to their maximum safe pressure level of 500 psi. "Activating dicetylene cannons now." As he spoke, his right hand slammed down on the control to activate the cannons.

Streams of greenish-white dicetylene exploded from the muzzles of the turret cannons. Propelled by immense pressure, the twin streams impacted the wall of flame almost instantly. Immediately flames shrunk, spluttered, then vanished as the dicetylene broke two parts of the triangle all fires needed to burn.

Gordon began rotating the turret in a sweeping left to right, right to left arc, constantly pumping out dicetylene, as the Firefly began inching forward. _I wonder how Virgil's getting on with the Mole,_ he thought as flames flickered and died all around the path of the Firefly, snuffed out by the remorseless dicetylene assault.

**

* * *

The Mole**

**That Same Time**

Virgil smiled when he felt the vibration of the Mole change under him. From long experience in the field, he knew that the change meant that he was through the bedrock into an open space. A quick glance at the instrument panels confirmed that the Mole had penetrated into the section of the city's utility tunnel network that ran under the chemical plant.

Calmly, Virgil powered down the engines, shutting down the drilling heads and killing all forward momentum. Then he stood up and headed into the back passenger compartment where the hatch to the outside world was located. Pausing at the hatch, Virgil put his helmet and breather pack back on, before picking up his emergency kit.

"Mole to Mobile Control," he said into his helmet radio.

"Go ahead, Virgil," Scott replied immediately.

"I've broken through to the utility tunnels, Scott," Virgil answered as he tripped the Mole's hatch. "Leaving the Mole now."

"F.A.B., Virgil," Scott replied. "Be careful. Given the force of the blasts overhead in the plant, there could well be some damage down there."

"I'll be careful, Scott," Virgil reassured his brother.

"I know you will, Virgil," Scott replied, then broke the connection from his end. Virgil sighed and stepped out of the Mole into the large open space under most of the chemical plant.

As he did so, his helmet's HUD brought up a detailed 3D map of the underground tunnels. Both the positions of the Mole and his objective – the ladder up into the control bunker – were clearly marked, so there was no danger of getting lost in the virtual underground maze of the utility tunnels.

Virgil turned on the torch he had strapped to his left forearm. The beam from the small, but very powerful torch cut through the darkness of the tunnels like a hot knife through butter. Dust motes glimmered like tiny speckles of gold as they passed through the beam, and all around Virgil could see signs of damage in this part of the tunnel system. Many ducts had broken, the cables they carried hanging down limply and water was slowly seeping out of a cracked water pipe, producing a drip, drip sound that echoed in the silent open area.

With another sigh, Virgil started walking, following the directions indicated on his helmet map. _Hang on their people,_ he thought, thinking of the people trapped in the control bunker. _I'm coming._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four **

**Thirty Miles From Madrid **

**Ten Minutes Later **

Benson smiled to himself as he pulled his stolen car into the parking area of the abandoned service station. He got out of the car and headed over to where he had earlier left his van.

It took only moments to reach his van and climb into the front. Opening the glove compartment, he took out a small personal computer and, with a soft smile on his face, composed an email for the personal attention of Alexander Satoza. A quick command sent the electronic message on its way to Manhattan. _That's done,_ Benson thought. O_ne last loose end to tie up, then I can head to the rendezvous point._

Climbing out, he went around to the van's sliding side door and opened it. For a few moments he rummaged through the boxes and crates stored there, quietly swearing to himself. _Note to self,_ he thought. S_ort back of van out at first opportunity._

Finally, he found what he was looking for. Holding the thermal grenade in one hand, he jumped out of the van and made his way over to the stolen car. Grinning, he pulled the pin on the grenade and tossed it in through the smashed rear window. Mentally counting down the seconds, he ran back to his van. The grenade detonated and the car exploded into a massive fireball.

Benson looked at the burning, already half-gutted car for a moment, then grinned evilly and turned away. Walking to the front of his van he closed the side door, climbed into the driver's seat, and started the engine. Calmly he drove away, heading for a distant, abandoned military airstrip where he would rendezvous with a Satoza Enterprises cargo plane. He was completely satisfied now that all evidence that he had ever been in Spain had been wiped out.

**

* * *

Trans-Continental Chemical Plant**

**That Same Time **

Virgil Tracy sighed in relief as his laser cutter finished slicing through the thick, heavy metal door – the second he'd come across – that blocked his path. A swift kick sent the door crashing to the ground with a loud clang. The way into the control bunker was now open and, mindful of the fact that the edges of the hole were still fiercely warm from laser fire, Virgil carefully ducked through into the bunker.

Standing up straight, Virgil returned his laser cutter to its place in his emergency kit. Then he turned his attention to his helmet HUD as it pulled up the control bunker's preloaded layout, and he carefully took in the details.

The bunker was a two story cylindrical structure. The ground floor - where he was at the moment - was mostly given over to engineering areas and storage areas for portable equipment. The upper floor was where the staff would be. That level was laid out in a series of concentric circles. Immediately against the outer wall were staff recreational areas, next was a ring of offices, and finally, at the core, was the control room.

With the aid of the map, Virgil located the closest stairwell to that top level. _Better check in with Scott first though,_ Virgil thought. _It's taken longer than I thought to get in here._

"Virgil to Mobile Control," he said into his helmet radio.

"I read you, Virgil," Scott responded immediately, a note of relief in his voice. "You took your time checking in. I was beginning to worry."

"Sorry," Virgil replied. "But I ran into some unexpected obstacles on the way in. Both the top and bottom of the ladder well were blocked off by heavy metal doors. The locks were electronic and since there is no main power, neither would open. I had to burn my way through with the laser cutter."

"Oh, I see. I didn't know about the doors. You in the bunker now?"

"Yes. I'm about to head upstairs."

"F-A-B."

"How's the Firefly doing with the fire?" Virgil asked as he headed towards the stairs.

"Between the Firefly and the fire department's hoses, progress is good," Scott replied. "Thirty percent of the fire has been extinguished. The Firefly is currently returning to Thunderbird Two to refill the dicetylene tank."

Virgil nodded, expecting that. One of Firefly's few weaknesses was the comparative small size of its dicetylene tank, a design flaw that Brains was working to resolve. Until it was corrected, they had made a point to carry a large tank, full of dicetylene, in Thunderbird Two's pod, ready for mid-mission refills.

"Glad to hear that that part of the mission is going so well," Virgil replied, reaching the stairwell. He pushed the heavy fire door to the stairs open and slipped easily through the gap.

"As am I," Scott answered. "We'll have this particular beast slain in no time at this rate. Where are you now?"

"Just going up the stairs now," Virgil said as he started climbing the steps. "As soon as I find the staff I'll escort them back to the Mole."

"F-A-B, Virgil. I've finally found out how many staff were on duty in the bunker today."

"How many are there, Scott?"

"Six."

"F-A-B. Knowing how many people I have to find certainly makes my job that little bit easier."

"No problem." The transmission from Mobile Control ended with a soft bleep as Scott broke the connection from his end. As the bleep sounded, Virgil stepped out onto the upper level of the control bunker.

Virgil paused and checked his helmet map, locating the corridor that would take him to the control room. He began walking in that direction, idly noting the staff facilities that he passed. He noticed both a games room and a small but very well equipped gym, similar to the one on Thunderbird Five. The presence of such facilities startled him for a moment, then he recalled that Trans-Continental Chemicals, and its sister company, Trans-Continental Airlines, were well known to be very supportive and caring for their staff, treating them almost like family. It was a something that Dad had always done with Tracy Industries, and others had copied when they saw the results.

It took Virgil only a few moments to make his way to the control room. To his relief, he found that all six staff members were in the room. All were thankfully still on their feet though they were completely caked in sweat from the rising heat levels in the bunker.

After a moment one of them spotted him and called out to the others. Everyone turned to look at him, and in seconds he was surrounded by them, all talking in rapid fire Spanish. Normally Virgil could understand and speak Spanish perfectly well – it was the only foreign language that he knew. But the six workers were speaking all at once and so fast that he couldn't quite catch what they were saying.

"Calm down, calm down," Virgil replied. "One at a time please. One at a time." Slowly the workers all went quiet, looking a little sheepish at having given him the equivalent of Twenty Questions.

"That's better," Virgil continued. "Now then, my name is Virgil and, as you've guessed, I'm from International Rescue. I've come to get you out of here."

"Thank God you came," shift supervisor Pedro Avera said. "We were beginning to give up hope of getting out of here alive. What about the fire?"

"Other members of my organisation are in the process of dealing with that," Virgil replied. "Now I need you to confirm something: our information indicates that the six of you are the only ones here. Is that correct?"

"Yes, now," Pedro replied sadly. "We had called in one of our maintenance engineers, Miguel Lapaz, to investigate some odd readings coming from chemical reactor three. He had just started to look at it when the reactor exploded."

"I'm sorry," Virgil replied, genuinely sympathetic, knowing that Miguel would have been killed by the blast. Still the mention of the reactor exploding confused him slightly; modern reactors, both nuclear and chemical, were incredibly safe, with multiple safety and shut down systems built in. One blowing up was almost unheard of.

"So am I," Pedro answered. "Miguel was a good man. But mourning his death can wait. You said you have come to get us out of here?"

"That's right," Virgil confirmed. "If you will all kindly follow me, please."

"No problem there, my friend," Pedro replied with a smile, wishing he could see the face of the man who'd come to save them instead of a featureless silver visor.

Virgil smiled back even though he knew that Pedro and the others wouldn't see it. Then he turned on his heel in almost military manner, and led the way out of the control room. Pedro mentioned for his colleagues to follow. As shift supervisor it was his duty to see that they all got out okay. Only when they were all out of the room did he himself leave, following them and the man from International Rescue to safety.

**

* * *

Mobile Control**

Captain Fernandez smiled as he read the report he had just been handed. They were coming; he hadn't thought that they would be able to. But two of them were coming now to assist in putting out the chemical plant fire. It was all that could be spared but still, it would make a hell of a dent in the fire.

Still smiling, he approached where Scott was sitting, studying Mobile Control's screens, to give him the good news.

"Scott," he said. Hearing his name, Scott turned away from the screens – which tracked Firefly's progress back towards the still burning parts of the chemical plant – to look over at Enrique.

"Yes, Enrique?" Scott asked, wondering to himself why Enrique was smiling that way. It seemed at odds with the deadly seriousness of the situation raging outside the control tent.

"I have some good news, Scott," Enrique replied. "Two firefighting aircraft, each one loaded with ten thousand gallons of chemical fire suppressant, are on their way here. ETA twelve minutes."

"What!" Scott exclaimed, startled and delighted by the news. He knew that all the firefighting aircraft that Europe had been very busy, dealing with all the wild land fires that were burning here and there along the Mediterranean coast of Spain. The whole area was tinder dry, having not seen rain for months, so fire was inevitable. John had been keeping a close eye on the situation from space just in case it required International Rescue's assistance.

"That's great news," Scott continued, overcoming his momentary shock. "I'll calculate the optimum drop points for them, ready for their arrival."

"I'll tell them to expect co-ordinates from you," Enrique replied, moving away to speak to the fireman running their communications set up. For his part, Scott turned back to Mobile Control and got to work, using all the data he had available and computer projections to work out the optimum drop points.

Invisible to others behind his helmet visor, a smile graced Scott's face as he worked. The two incoming aircraft – part of a pan-European organisation for fighting wildfires, founded five years ago – were real heavy-duty reinforcements for them. With their massive cargoes of ready-to-spray fire suppressant, the aircraft would be all they would need to get this fire out once and for all. If all went well, then this mission would soon be over.

**

* * *

The Mole**

**Eight Minutes Later **

Virgil carefully checked the seat restraints on Pedro and the other five control bunker staff. The multi-point seat restraints used in the passenger/cargo compartment of the Mole could be a nuisance to operate at times. It wouldn't be the first time that someone they'd rescued hadn't been able to fasten them properly. Thankfully Pedro and his companions seemed to have done theirs up correctly.

Satisfied, Virgil stood up and went to the Mole's control cabin. With easy, athletic grace he settled into the pilot's seat and did up his own restraint before turning on the radio.

"Mole to Mobile Control," he said into his helmet microphone, which - through a variation of bluetooth technology - had now linked into the Mole's radio system.

"Go ahead, Virgil," Scott answered immediately. Virgil's hands danced over the controls with easy familiarity, starting the Mole's engines.

"The control bunker staff are all secured in the back, Scott," Virgil replied. "I am about to return to the surface with them."

"F-A-B, Virgil. I'll alert the paramedics."

"F-A-B," Virgil acknowledged as he manipulated the throttles, moving the Mole into reverse. For a moment nothing happened, then the mighty drilling machine began moving again. This time heading backward into the tunnel it had bored earlier, beginning its journey back up to the surface.

**

* * *

Mobile Control**

Barely two minutes after Virgil broke off communications with him, a bleeping alert from Mobile Control caught Scott's attention. He turned away from the paramedic he had just alerted. The sensor feed from Thunderbird Five had picked up the two firefighting aircraft approaching the city from the southeast. They would be at the drop points in barely two minutes. With a quick command to his console, he opened a communications channel to the approaching aircraft.

"International Rescue Mobile Control to approaching aircraft, respond please," he said into his helmet radio.

"Mobile Control, this is fire aircraft JL47, Captain Paul Tanner commanding. Reading you loud and clear," a warm English voice responded instantly.

"Captain Tanner, I have the drop co-ordinates for you," Scott answered, his hands dancing across his console. "I'm sending them to you now."

"Understood," Tanner replied and went silent for a few moments. "Co-ordinates received. We're over the city now, ready to commence our run on your instruction."

"Commence your run."

"Roger. Commencing run now."

"Understood."

**

* * *

Firefly Turret**

Gordon grinned as the remorseless, relentless force of the dicetylene streams snuffed out another part of the blaze.

This part of the plant was a network of pipes, small storage tanks, and low slung buildings, with the odd pumping station thrown in for good measure. Everything was well ablaze, especially the buildings; some of them had already collapsed. Those few that had collapsed were now mountains of smouldering rubble, the flames snuffed out by their individual falls.

As the Firefly began moving forward again, heading towards the next blazing building, Gordon directed the cannons to spray dicetylene over the closest mound of smouldering rubble, cooling it down. As he did so, a movement visible out of the corner of his caught his attention and he looked to the east to see what was going on.

Two aircraft were coming in over the plant on what looked like a bombing run. The aircraft swooped out of the smoke cloud like a pair of avenging angels, and from the belly of each a fine, greyish-white mist began to fall. It plummeted to earth with a silent gracefulness, almost like snow. But the effect when the mist touched the fire was very different; it acted like a thick, smothering shroud. Dirty yellow-orange flames that had been roaring a hundred feet into the air shrank, flickered fitfully, then vanished as if they had never been.

Then the two aircraft passed overhead and Gordon's vision disappeared as the greyish white mist coated the visor of his suit, leaving him with only the HUD. Reaching up with one gloved hand, he tried to wipe the stuff away and discovered to his surprise that it was now solid and, through the glove, almost felt like ice. He had to physically scrape it off, which took both hands and a good few minutes work.

Finally he could see again and saw that the fire, which had been raging all around them, was out. Everything was completely coated in a thick layer of semi-translucent, greyish-white material that glimmered slightly, almost as if it were ice but it obviously was not. _Whoa! Now that's impressive for a single bombing run,_ Gordon thought. _Whatever this stuff is, it is obviously very good at what it is meant to do, just like our dicetylene is good at its job._

"Now that's impressive," he said out loud.

"Indeed it is," Jeff agreed over the two-way link between the driver and turret operator. "I better call in to Scott, and see what he wants us to do now."

"F-A-B, Dad," Gordon replied.

**

* * *

Mobile Control**

Scott smiled as Thunderbird Five's sensor feed revealed the effects of the air drops. To all intents and purposes, the remaining fire had been extinguished. Only a single hotspot remained and it was fading rapidly. It was within reach of two of the fire brigade's platforms and thus already was being bombarded with multiple streams of foam.

"Mobile Control to fire aircraft JL47," he said into his helmet microphone. "Excellent drops; the fire is out."

"Fire aircraft JL47 to Mobile Control. Thanks. Glad we could help," Captain Tanner responded immediately. "We're returning to base now."

"Understood," Scott answered, repressing the almost burned in instinct to respond with "F-A-B", knowing that Captain Tanner and his aircrew would not understand him. "Have a good flight home."

"Same to you, buddy," Tanner replied. "Same to you." Scott grinned and broke the connection, a moment before another communications channel came to life.

"Firefly to Mobile Control," Jeff called over the radio.

"Go ahead, Jeff," Scott replied, already knowing what his father was calling about.

"The fire is out as far as we can tell from here, Scott. Request instructions," Jeff answered.

"The fire is out throughout the plant now, Jeff; the air drops really knocked the wind out of its sails. Virgil's on his way back to the surface in the Mole. There is nothing more for you to do. Return to Thunderbird Two," Scott instructed.

"F-A-B, Scott," Jeff replied. "Returning to Thunderbird Two."

"F-A-B."

**

* * *

The Mole**

**Five Minutes Later **

Virgil grinned as a dull series of thuds echoed through the Mole. He knew that sound by heart. It was the sound of docking clamps on the transport sled engaging with locks on the Mole's underside, locking the mighty drilling machine in place. For a moment more nothing happened, then a faint, dull humming filled the air and he could feel the Mole moving, but in a different way than when it was drilling or travelling underground. After a short while, the humming stopped and there came another echoing thud.

Virgil smiled again, knowing that the Mole was now locked into horizontal, transport position. It was now safe for Pedro and the other control bunker staff to disembark. With a quick command to his controls, he activated the radio.

"Mole to Mobile Control," he said.

"Go ahead, Virgil," Scott responded.

"I'm back on the surface, Scott," Virgil replied. "Ready to unload passengers."

"F-A-B, Virgil," Scott answered. "I'll send the paramedics your way. Wait a few minutes then allow your passengers to disembark."

"F-A-B," Virgil acknowledged. "How is the Firefly doing with the fire, Scott?"

"The fire is out, Virgil. The Firefly is returning to Thunderbird Two as we speak."

"F-A-B. As soon as my passengers have disembarked, I'll return to Thunderbird Two myself."

"F-A-B. Inform me as soon as you're back in the pod."

"F-A-B."

**

* * *

Mobile Control**

**Ten Minutes Later**

Scott jumped slightly when his communications panel came to life once again.

"Virgil to Mobile Control," Virgil said.

"Go ahead, Virgil," Scott replied, though he already knew what Virgil was going to say.

"I'm back in Thunderbird Two's pod, Scott. We're just securing everything prior to departure. We'll be ready to depart shortly."

"F-A-B, Virgil. I'll pack up Mobile Control and return to Thunderbird One. Leave as soon as you're ready to do so."

"F-A-B. See you back at base," Virgil said.

"See you back at base," Scott replied then closed the communications channel from his end. _Time to go,_ he thought, as he flicked the switch that cut power to Mobile Control. Instantly, the unit went dark. He smiled, stood up, and disassembled the complex, multipart unit into its component parts.

Despite Mobile Control's complex nature, taking it apart and returning its components to their metallic case took Scott all of a minute and a half. Since International Rescue had begun operations, he had gotten very good at assembling and disassembling it quickly.

He had just closed the case, ready to leave the control tent and return to Thunderbird One when a discreet "ahem" sounded behind him. He turned around to find himself face to face with Captain Fernandez.

"I take it that you're heading home now, Scott," Enrique said with a smile.

"That's right, Enrique," Scott replied. "Our task here is done. The control bunker personnel have all been rescued safely and the fire has been extinguished."

"That's true," Enrique agreed before holding out his hand. "On behalf of us all, thank you for the help, Scott."

"Our pleasure," Scott replied, taking Enrique's offered hand and shaking it warmly. Then he released Enrique's hand, turned and, carrying Mobile Control, walked out of the tent.

Enrique Fernandez watched him leave, a mysterious helmeted and uniformed figure that he only knew only by a first name. Assuming, of course, that 'Scott' was the International Rescue man's real first name. _I wish I knew who they really are,_ he thought, thinking not just about Scott but the Thunderbirds in general. _Then we could really thank them properly for helping us._

After a moment, Enrique sighed and went back to his duties. Unlike Scott and International Rescue, he still had a lot of things to do here before he could go home to his wife and children. And it was time to start doing them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five **

**Satoza Enterprises Headquarters Tower **

**Manhattan, Sometime Later **

Alexander Satoza sighed in relief as he half sat, half collapsed in his chair behind his expensive desk. He had not had the best of mornings; in fact it was one of his worst for a good long while. Things had started well enough; he'd gotten up on time and his driver had gotten him into work quickly, avoiding the traffic jams with practised ease and with the aid of drive time radio. It was only when he had arrived here that the problems had started.

As soon as he had arrived, his secretary had informed him that one of his company's biggest component suppliers for their defence contracts was unhappy, threatening to withdraw from agreements with his company and to take the matter to the authorities. Apparently a glitch in his company's accounting systems – one that had gone undetected for the last financial quarter - had resulted in the accounts department not paying the supplier the agreed upon price for their goods.

Alexander had spent practically the whole day, personally trying to resolve the matter; he could not afford to lose those contracts, nor did he want the authorities poking their noses into his affairs. He had even gone to the suppliers at their headquarters near Times Square and had personally spoken to the CEO. In the end, he had been able to resolve the situation, but he was now going to have to make up the deficit with increased payments for the next quarter. But Alexander could live with that – at least until he could find which idiot hadn't thought to check the accounts system to see if it was working properly. Then he would make the idiot pay for the error, even if it turned him or her into a pauper in the process.

For a few moments, Alexander just sat back in his leather chair, glad to have some peace. Then he sighed and started the process of booting up his computer before looking at his in-tray and groaning at the huge pile of files and memos waiting there for his final approval on. _Oh brilliant,_ he thought, _whom have I annoyed recently to deserve a day like the one I'm having today? Who has it in for me?_

A sudden bleeping made him jump. The bleeping stopped almost immediately but Alexander had recognised it. An alert had sounded in response to his computer being booted up; there was a message for him. A message that, because of its very nature, could not be trusted to the company's regular email servers. Reaching under his desk, he pressed a control covertly hidden there and heard a soft click.

A section of his desktop dropped down slightly, revealing the hidden compartment there. Quietly, Alexander reached in and retrieved a personal computer pad. The pad reported that it had received an email message from Benson, the message dated as being nearly five hours old. Alexander smiled as he accessed the message and read what Benson had to say. The mission to deploy the first set of Doctor Avoki's nanospiders on Thunderbird One had been successfully completed and no one was any the wiser that the spiders were there. Especially not International Rescue; they had been naturally focused on the distraction that Benson had 'arranged' for them to deal with.

_At least something has gone right today,_ Alexander thought with a smile. _My plan advances. Soon their secrets will be mine and my company will be the richest in the world._ With a quick command, he authorised a payment to Benson's bank account, then sent him an email, instructing him to begin preparations for the next phase of the plan.

Then he returned the pad to its secret pigeonhole and closed the compartment. The compartment sealed seamlessly so even with an in-depth examination, no one would know it was there. Alexander smiled again, then sighed and picked up the first memo that he had to read. It was going to be a long day, but he would manage, happy in the knowledge that this long cherished plan was finally underway.

**

* * *

Thunderbird One's Silo**

**Tracy Island, That Same Time **

Scott Tracy sighed in relief as the dull thuds of the docking clamps engaging echoed through Thunderbird One, producing slight shudders as they made contact with the hull. With quick, familiar movements, he began powering down Thunderbird One's systems and setting the fusion plant that powered his Bird to stand by mode.

He was glad to be home, and that today's mission to Madrid could now be officially declared over. As much as he loved the high, and the buzz of adrenaline that he got flying the turboscram powered Thunderbird One, it was always nice to return home. There was only the normal post-mission debrief to go through – in which he would have to let Brains know his suspicion that the shock absorbers on Thunderbird One's landing gear were starting to wear out again. Then he would be able to put his feet up and relax for the rest of the day; they all would be able to.

Satisfied that everything was as it should be, Scott gave his instruments one last look before powering them down as well. Instantly the panels went dark, and a fading humming filled the cockpit for a moment as Thunderbird One completed her power down cycle. Scott sighed to himself before undoing his restraint and climbing out of the pilot's seat.

Carefully, he made his way to the hatch, opened it and left Thunderbird One, closing the hatch behind him. Scott had only taken a few steps when a soft sound caught his attention, and he stopped dead in his tracks to listen. There it was again - a soft, repeated tapping noise that echoed slightly in the silence of the silo.

"What the-?" Scott said softly to himself, listening intently to determine where the strange sound was coming from, and what it was.

He was able to determine that it was coming from somewhere below him, though the sound was too weak to identify. Cautiously, Scott leaned on the guard rail and looked down the length of the silo, hoping he could spot what was causing the noise.

Now that the silo roof had closed, cutting off the bright light of the tropical sun, illumination in most of the silo was very poor. The only light came from a floodlight that illuminated the nose cone and cockpit area, blue light panels spaced broadly along the length of the silo, and the blue guide lines running under the access gantry he was standing on.

With such poor illumination, Scott saw nothing other than the odd glint of blue light reflecting weakly off the hull of Thunderbird One. Certainly, he saw nothing that could be the source of the faint, tapping noise.

After a few more moments the tapping noise seemed to stop. Scott sighed and stood back upright, a puzzled frown on his handsome face. _What could have caused that noise?_ Scott thought. _I've never heard anything like that in here before._ With another sigh and a mental shrug, Scott resumed his journey out of the silo to the complex on the surface.

* * *

Unseen but not unheard, twelve of the twenty-four nanospiders secretly deployed aboard Thunderbird One left the machine. They crawled quickly along the data conduits, power cables and fuel feed lines that ran along the underside of the massive arms holding Thunderbird One in take off position. As they moved, their legs made the repeated soft tapping sounds that had teased Scott Tracy's sharp hearing.

Reaching the side of the silo, the spider-like machines paused and scanned the area, each sweeping a different part of the silo with a tight focus scanning beam, a beam whose frequency and energy emissions were far too weak to be detected by the island's security net. With only twelve of the nanospiders scanning, it took the complex, clandestine little robots some time to scan the – on their level – vast space around them. But eventually they located their objective.

With the single-minded purpose that only machines could display, the nanospiders first made their way across the open space. Like the creatures they were modelled after, the nanospiders had no trouble clinging to the vertical walls. Then they descended to the very bottom of the silo, where a diagnostic console was located in the maintenance space for the engine block right where the silo connected to the island's service tunnel network.

Quietly, they slipped through the ventilation grill at the base of the console into the circuitry behind. Then they moved so close to each other that they were touching and began to glow and change once more. Each nanospider's outline blurred and softened, then the individual spiders seemed to melt, like ice cubes in the sun. Their masses merged together as they radically changed form and function according to their unique programming.

In minutes, they had become a slim device made of complex electronic micro-circuitry about the size of a saucer. From this central panel, six slim metallic tendrils emerged. Like metallic serpents, these tendrils coiled themselves around the panel's conduits before thrusting their tips in. The complex tips pierced the protective layers around the conduits and spliced themselves seamlessly with them. They established solid connections between the device that had spawned them and the island's power grid and computer network.

For a few more moments, nothing happened, then the device lit up as a tiny fraction of the power from the island's fusion reactor began running through its circuits. Then it began broadcasting low level radio signals that – like the nanospiders' scanning beams – were on a bandwidth that the island's security systems did not normally scan.

Within Thunderbird One, the remaining twelve nanospiders picked up the signals and came to life. From their position in the very core of the machine, they set about their programmed task. Reaching out with their scanning beams, they began examining the Thunderbird's interior, beginning the long, laborious process of building a chip by chip, circuit by circuit schematic of the Thunderbird from the inside out. It would take time, but time was of no consequence to the nanospiders as they set about gathering the data for their master.

Alexander Satoza's plan to get the secrets of International Rescue had well and truly begun.

**

* * *

Jeff Tracy's Office**

**Thirty Minutes Later**

Scott mentally sighed in relief as his father brought the debriefing session to its conclusion. Thunderbird Two had arrived back barely five minutes after him. They'd spent fifty minutes since then reviewing their performance; breaking it down, going over every aspect of the operation to determine if there was any room for improvement in their next rescue mission... whenever that was. It was painstaking work and, as always, had taken ages, but finally they were done.

"B…b…before we l…l…leave, is there anything anyone n…n…needs to t…t…tell me about the Thunderbirds?" Brains asked. "I have y…y…yet to run post flight c…c…checks."

"Nothing for Thunderbird Two, Brains," Virgil replied immediately. "All systems worked fine; all the readings were A-OK." Jeff and Gordon nodded agreement, having noticed nothing wrong with Thunderbird Two either.

"There is one thing with Thunderbird One," Scott said.

"G…g…go on, Scott," Brains replied, mentally bracing himself for bad news. When problems with Thunderbird One did occur, they tended to involve either the control systems for the variable geometry wings used in the different flight modes, the flight systems or the turboscram jets. All of which were very complex systems and could be a major maintenance headache.

"It is not that bad, Brains," Scott answered, inwardly amused by the look on Brains's face. "It is just that, when I landed in Madrid, there was much more of a bump on touchdown than normal. I think that the shock absorbers in the landing gear are starting to wear out again."

"I s…s…see," Brains replied, breathing a mental sigh of relief. While a long and dirty job, replacing the shock absorbers in Thunderbird One's landing gear was a straightforward repair.

"Is there anything else we need to talk about, boys?" Jeff asked. One by one, Scott, Virgil and Gordon shook their heads, all more than ready to sit back and relax for the rest of the day. After today's mission they had more than earned it. "Good, then this debrief is over. Onaha will have dinner ready soon so, if you do go outside, please try to stay within the villa complex."

"Sure thing, Dad," the boys chorused as the three of them stood up and started to leave the room.

Jeff watched them go. Brains followed them almost immediately, but going in a different direction to the boys once out in the corridor. Jeff knew from experience that Brains was going to go check Thunderbird One to see how many of the shock absorbers needed replacing.

After a moment, Jeff sighed and turned his full attention to the mountain of paperwork that had arrived for him while he'd been out on the rescue. _No rest for me today,_ he thought with another sigh as he picked up the first file.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six **

**Maintenance Bay **

**Tracy Island, Two Days Later**

Brains sighed in relief and swiped some of the sweat off his forehead with one hand. He had just finished changing the last of the shock absorbers in Thunderbird One's landing gear. It had taken longer than he had thought it would to change them, but that was understandable, as he'd had to change every single one.

When he'd run diagnostics on Thunderbird One two days ago, he had indeed discovered that the shock absorbers were wearing out in all three sets of landing gear. Though the wear hadn't been that bad, a lesser pilot than Scott might not have noticed it at all. Still Brains had gotten to work on replacing the offending devices, with some occasional assistance from Scott and Virgil. _Only one more thing to do,_ Brains thought, climbing down the small ladder he had been using to get up into the wheel well, _then Thunderbird One can be returned to her silo. Ready for action once more._

Moving over to the workbench, Brains picked up a portable diagnostic computer before climbing into the wheel well again. Using the computer, Brains began to run diagnostics on the landing gear components; after a moment, the results flashed up on the display and Brains smiled. Everything was reading exactly as it should; nothing had gone wrong. _One down, two to go,_ Brains thought.

He was about to climb down when a strange soft tapping noise caught his attention. _What in the world? _Brains thought, looking around for the source of the strange sound. After a moment, he realised that it was coming from behind an inspection cover in the ceiling of the wheel well, a cover that would allow access to the feed lines from the cockpit to all systems. _There shouldn't be anything in there that would produce a tapping noise,_ he thought. With a puzzled frown, he put aside the diagnostic computer and fished in his lab coat pocket, extracting a screwdriver.

"Okay, w…w…what's g…g…going on h…h…here?" he muttered to himself as he reached up and started to undo the panel's securing screws.

It only took a few moments to undo the panel screws. Putting the screws and the screwdriver aside, he reached up and pressed the panel with his free hand. The panel came away in his hand, and Brains frowned when it seemed to be heavier than it normally was. Confused, Brains brought the panel down to his eye level and froze when he saw what was standing on the panel.

It was a spider, and quite a big spider, too. It had a body the size of a golf ball and was a dull brown in colour. Seeing it, Brains went as white as a sheet and began shaking slightly. A small, frightened squeak emerged from his mouth. Then, in a sheer blind panic, he dropped the panel, scrambled down the ladder, and ran for his life from the maintenance bay.

**

* * *

Scott's Room**

**That Same Time**

Scott grinned as John laughed. He had just told John about the latest exploits of a certain younger brother.

"You're serious? Gordon really put purple dye in Virgil's shampoo bottle?" John asked through the computer screen.

"He did," Scott replied. "And Virgil didn't notice until he came down to breakfast after his morning shower." John smirked then, unable to resist, started laughing again. Scott joined in as he remembered this morning's scene.

"Man, I wish I could have seen that," John said, still laughing. He brought himself back under control. "So what's Virgil doing now?"

"After breakfast, he got another bottle of shampoo from the store room and is trying to wash out the dye," Scott answered. "It's going to take him a while; the type of dye Gordon used takes up to thirty washes to get out."

"Ouch. And Gordon?"

"He's making himself scarce."

"I bet he is. You can bet that Mount Saint Virgil will undergo a cataclysmic eruption the moment he gets his hands on him."

Scott chuckled at John's description of Virgil, knowing that it was true. Virgil didn't get mad – really mad – very often, but when he did, the target of his wrath could look out. Virgil, like their youngest brother, could be like an elemental force of nature when enraged. But whereas Alan's temper was more like a hurricane – all noise and fury that quickly died down – Virgil's temper simmered, building up its force until it exploded, just like a volcano. The effect was the same though; when those two really got mad, the whole place knew about it. The only ones who could deal with Alan and Virgil when they really blew were John and Dad himself.

"I don't doubt it," Scott agreed. "In fact, I think it's an absolute certainty."

"One thing is for certain, I wouldn't want to be in Gordon's shoes," John replied.

"Me neither; he'll be lucky if he's still alive this evening."

"Very true. On another topic now, Scott… have you spoken to Dad about that personal matter we've talked about before?" John asked without elaboration. He didn't need to; Scott knew what he was talking about.

"No, I haven't," Scott replied.

"Because you haven't had chance or because you're afraid to?" Scott sighed and looked away for a moment.

"The latter more than anything," he admitted reluctantly looking back at John.

"You can't put it off forever, Scott," John answered softly. "You're going to have to tell him eventually."

"I know, but it is just I'm scared to tell him, John."

"I guess I can understand that. But the longer you keep putting it off, the harder it's going to be for you to tell him."

"I guess. But how do I tell him? What if he hates me afterwards?"

"Dad would never hate you or any of us, Scott. He loves us all too much for that. He'll be shocked, of course, but he won't hate you."

"How can you be sure?"

"Trust me, Scott, he won't hate you. You have to tell him and soon."

"I know," Scott replied with a sigh. "Just let me think some more about how I'm going to do it."

"Ok. But if you want to talk about it just give me a yell. I'm not going anywhere."

"I will. Thanks, John."

"Anytime, Scott, anytime."

Scott smiled. He was about to reply when he heard a dull thud followed by a crash come from the direction of the hallway.

"That's strange," he said. "I just heard a thud and a crash from the hallway. I'm going to go and check it out."

"Ok, Scott. I was going to head off for a workout anyway," John answered.

"Ok, just don't overdo it on the weights, John." John laughed, knowing Scott was referring to some of the things he'd done when he'd been a teenager and first started using weights in his workouts.

"I don't do that these days, Scott. I know my limits. I'll catch up with you later."

"Ok, talk to you later, John."

John grinned, then broke the connection from his end. The communications window vanished and the computer's desktop returned. Scott smiled and shut down his computer. He stood up and headed out into the hallway to investigate the noise.

Stepping out of his room, Scott paused and took in the scene before him. Kyrano was picking up his linens trolley. Sheets and towels were now all over the floor. Brains was standing against the wall nearby, pale and shaking, as if he'd had a very nasty fright.

"Brains, Kyrano, what's going on here?" Scott asked, a puzzled frown on his handsome face. Brains didn't respond or even give an indication of having heard him. Kyrano, on the other hand, looked over at the sound of his voice.

"It's alright, Scott," Kyrano explained. "I was just bringing these towels and sheets to the bedrooms when Brains came racing around the corner and crashed into me."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. It won't take me long pick all this up," Kyrano answered, getting to work picking up and refolding the sheets and towels. Scott watched him for a moment before walking over to Brains.

"Brains," he said, trying to get the attention of the scientific genius. Brains did not respond or give any indication of having heard him. "Brains," he repeated, grabbing Brains's arm.

This time Brains did react, by blinking then looking straight at him, his blue eyes wide and frightened.

"S…S…Scott," Brains said, his voice shaking and stammering heavily. "A s…s…spider; I s…s…saw a s…s…spider."

Scott nodded in understanding. He knew that Brains suffered from a very strong form of arachnophobia; even the tiniest spiders terrified him and could induce a full force panic attack. From Brains's state, Scott guessed that was what had happened here.

"It's ok, Brains; the spider is gone now," Scott said soothingly. "Come on, let's go and get you something to help you calm down. Then you can tell me all about it." Brains nodded in reluctant agreement and allowed Scott to lead him away in the direction of the living room.

**

* * *

A Few Minutes Later**

Scott watched quietly as Brains took another sip of the tea that Onaha had just made for him. The scientist was visibly calming down and his colour was coming back as one of Onaha's various herbal concoctions worked its magic. It never ceased to amaze him how useful and how powerful Onaha's knowledge of herbal medicines could be. Sometimes it seemed to Scott that Onaha and Kyrano had a remedy for everything.

"How are you feeling now, Brains?" Scott asked. Brains looked over at the oldest of the Tracy boys and smiled softly.

"B…b…better, Scott, t…t…thank you," Brains replied. Scott smiled back.

"You're welcome. Do you want to tell me what happened? Where did you see the spider?"

Brains sighed and looked down at the half-drunk cup of herbal tea. He was never comfortable talking about his deeply ingrained fear of spiders, but he knew he owed Scott an explanation for why he had freaked out so completely.

"I w…w…was running final d…d…diagnostics on the new s…s…shock absorbers in Thunderbird One's l…l…landing gear," Brains explained before taking another sip of his tea. "I h…h…had just finished the f…f…first group in the f…f…front w…w…wheel well when I h…h…heard a s…s…strange t…t…tapping noise."

"From inside Thunderbird One?" Scott asked, a puzzled look on his face as he recalled the strange noise he had heard in the silo a few days ago.

"Y…y…yes," Brains replied. "It was c…c…coming from b…b…behind the p…p…panel over the c…c…cockpit power and data c…c…conduits. When I r…r…removed the c…c…cover, the spider was t…t…there."

"The spider was inside Thunderbird One?"

"Y…y…yes."

Scott frowned slightly, wondering how on Earth a spider could have gotten aboard his Thunderbird. Then it dawned on him; the spider Brains had encountered was a stowaway. It wouldn't be the first time they had gotten back to base to find that they had picked up an animal hitchhiker during a rescue.

"I must have picked up a little hitchhiker at the Madrid rescue," Scott said. "It's the most logical explanation for the spider's presence in my Bird. It's also not the first time that kind of thing has happened."

"T…t…true," Brains agreed before drinking the last of his tea in one gulp. "I s…s…should get b…b…back to w…w…work and f…f…finish the diagnostics on T…T…Thunderbird One." _I just hope the spider is gone now,_ he thought to himself.

"You don't have to, Brains," Scott said knowing Brains was probably worried that the spider would still be there. "I know how to run the diagnostics. I could finish them off for you and call you when I'm ready to start the procedure to return Thunderbird One to her silo."

"W…w…would you, Scott?" Brains asked hopefully. He was rewarded with a grin from the oldest Tracy son.

"Sure, no problem," Scott replied. "I'll go and get started right now."

"T…t…thank y…y…you, Scott."

"You're welcome," Scott answered standing up, then heading for the closest entrance to the underground complex.

Brains watched Scott go, then sighed and decided to go back to his lab while he waited for Scott to call him. He had a few experiments running with remote supervision; it would be nice to check their progress himself.

Smiling, Brains headed for his lab and almost collided with Virgil, who was coming the other way. Virgil's damp hair was back to its normal brown colour, though his obvious anger made his face resemble a thundercloud. Virgil definitely looked more than ready to pound Gordon into the side of one of the island's extinct volcanic peaks.

"S…s…sorry, Virgil," Brains said.

"It's ok, Brains," Virgil replied, his voice dark and angry.

_Look out, Gordon! Virgil's on the warpath,_ Brains thought. He couldn't help feeling a twinge of sympathy for the copper-haired Tracy son, even though it was Gordon's own fault that he would be on the receiving end of Virgil's volcanically explosive temper. That was not a situation that Brains would wish on anyone, not even his worst enemy.

"Have you seen Gordon, Brains?" Virgil asked, doing his best to keep from shouting as he spoke. He wasn't angry at Brains and he knew it wouldn't be fair to take his rage out on the scientist.

"N…n…no, I'm a…a…afraid I h…h…haven't," Brains replied. "I've b…b…been in the m…m…maintenance b…b…bay most the d…d…day."

"It's ok. I'll just go and find him," Virgil answered and walked away, determined to find and teach his prankster brother a lesson.

Brains shook his head and uttered a prayer that Virgil wouldn't find Gordon until after he had calmed down a bit. Then he sighed and resumed his trek to his lab.

**

* * *

Thunderbird Maintenance Bay**

**Sometime Later**

Scott climbed down out of the last of Thunderbird One's wheel wells with a relieved sigh. He'd finished the diagnostics on the new shock absorbers, replaced the small inspection panel in the nose wheel well, and given his Bird a thorough once over. He had seen nothing out of the ordinary, certainly nothing like the spider Brains had seen. He wasn't surprised that he hadn't found the arachnid; it was certain to have run away and hid somewhere away from Thunderbird One, as scared of Brains as Brains was of it.

Moving over to the workbench, Scott put the diagnostic computer pad down before flicking a switch on the bench intercom panel.

"L…l…laboratory," Brains responded, his voice sounding slightly tinny coming from the intercom's speaker grill.

"Brains, it's me Scott," Scott replied. "I've completed the diagnostic checks on Thunderbird One. Everything is testing perfect; all the readings are exactly as they should be. I'm ready to return her to her silo."

"F-A-B, Scott. I'll b…b…be right d…d…down." The process of returning a Thunderbird to its silo from the maintenance bay was quite a tricky, though largely automated, one. Scott knew Brains was always happier monitoring it personally.

"F-A-B." Scott acknowledged before signing off.

While he waited for Brains to arrive, he turned and looked at Thunderbird One and, not for the first time, just admired her. Even earthbound she was incredibly graceful, every one of her sleek lines hinting at her speed and effortless power. _Soon, baby,_ he thought lovingly. S_oon you'll be back in your silo ready for the call of duty. Soon you'll be ready to take to our natural element again._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Mexico City**

**Three Days Later**

Benson smiled softly as the last part of the relay device clicked into place and a number of small lights came on. _At last,_ he thought in relief.

The relay device that Doctor Avoki had given him to set up was very compact and unobtrusive, perfect for its purpose. But it was also a pain to put together. Carefully, he examined the device, satisfying himself that it was working properly and that he hadn't made any mistakes in assembling it. It was essential that the relay worked properly; Mr Satoza would make his life very unpleasant if something were to be wrong with the relay.

Satisfied that everything was fine, Benson stood and turned to look at the skyscraper across the street from his rooftop perch. The Raykier Building was a huge skyscraper that had only been completed last year. A polished cone of metal, concrete and glass, it rose a hundred and thirty five storeys into the sky over Mexico City. It was the new central hub of a financial and shipping empire and was the city's tallest building – perhaps even the tallest manmade structure in Central America.

Benson had spent much the last week working there as a maintenance technician. With his contacts, getting forged credentials was absurdly easy. It had enabled him to go where he'd needed to go inside the building without arousing any suspicion from Raykier's security division.

Benson smiled cruelly at the gleaming cone as he withdrew a small control pad from his pocket. His smile changed into a smirk as he pressed three buttons in sequence and immediately heard a series of bleeps as a thirty-second countdown started.

**

* * *

Floor 130**

**Raykier Building, That Same Time**

Diana Kingfield sighed in relief as the lift doors opened with a ping. She was glad that she had this afternoon off; she needed it after the meeting that she had spent all morning in.

Entering the lift, Diana pressed the control to take her to the lobby then leaned against the side wall as the door closed. With a soft humming sound, the lift began its descent, riding down twin magnetic rails, one on each side of the shaft. Diana closed her eyes as the lift picked up speed and considered what to do for the rest of the day. She wasn't in the mood to fight her way to one of the city shopping malls, not after the hassle of the meeting. Just getting home through the madness of Mexico City traffic was going to be stressful enough. _I'll just stay at home,_ she thought, opening her eyes again and smiling.

At that moment the powerful, concussive sound of multiple explosions split the air and the lift – like whole tower – shook violently. Diana's stomach jumped into her throat and she bit back a scream of terror as the lift dropped out of control. After a few terrifying seconds, a high pitched screeching noise filled the elevator. Emergency breaks tripped in, slowly bringing it to a jerking halt. Diana was thrown to the floor; the lights flickered once, then went out as power died. For a few more seconds there was darkness, then amber battery-powered emergency lights came on.

_Oh my God, Oh my God,_ Diana thought, slowly sitting up and hearing the wail of fire klaxons even in the lift. _What's happened? Dear God, what's happened? Terrorists! It's got to be! _Getting her feet under her, Diana stood up and pressed the emergency button on the lift control panel. An alarm sounded immediately but the intercom panel remained silent. With a growing sense of panic, she pressed the alarm button again. _Please hear me!_ she thought. _Someone please hear me! Don't leave me in here to die!_

**

* * *

Outside**

Benson allowed himself a pleased smile as he observed an inferno firmly taking hold on floors 99 to 101 of the Raykier Building. The incendiary devices he'd planted had done their job well, as had the small, conventional explosive charges he'd planted to knock out power throughout the building and take out the automatic fire suppression system.

After a few moments, the sound of fire engine sirens approaching caught Benson's attention and he grinned evilly. _They won't be able to do anything to put the fire out, let alone rescue the people trapped on the upper floors let alone rescue the people trapped on the upper floors. The fire is already too strong, _he thought about the firefighters who he knew would be coming, speeding to the rescue. _They have to know there is nothing they can really do inside the Raykier Building but they'll give it their best shot. As futile as it is._

There was really only one group of people in the world who had the equipment and the knowledge to be able to save the people trapped in the burning tower. And it was that very group that Benson was waiting for. He looked at the tower again; even from here he could feel the radiant heat of the inferno. _The stage is set,_ he thought, _time for the drama to begin. Thunderbirds, we are waiting for you._

**

* * *

Thunderbird Five**

**Twenty Minutes Later**

John jumped, startled when an alarm began to sound throughout the space station. An alarm whose meaning he knew all too well, it was an alert that an emergency signal was being received.

Mentally cursing in every language he knew, John abandoned his position at his telescope and headed for the control room. Observing the comet that would pass Earth in a few days would have to wait until later. _Whoever needs our help this time has absolutely rotten timing,_ he thought as he hurried through the familiar corridors of Thunderbird Five.

It took him all of a minute to reach the control room from the astrodome. As he crossed the threshold into the room, the radio speakers crackled to life again.

"Calling International Rescue, calling International Rescue. This is Mexico City Emergency Service Control; we are in need of your assistance. International Rescue, can you hear us?" a strongly accented male voice said as John crossed to the console and slid gracefully into his chair. Before the caller from Mexico could speak again, he reached out and pressed a button to answer the hail.

"Mexico City Emergency Control, this is International Rescue," John said in a calm, professional voice, all irritation at being disturbed gone. "We have received your call for help. How can we assist you?"

"Oh thank God," the mysterious Mexican caller's voice answered. "We have a serious fire here in the city at the Raykier Building. Four floors are completely engulfed in flames; there are people trapped on the upper floors and at least one in a lift. Our emergency crews can't get anywhere near them."

"That does sound serious," John replied, mentally cursing again as he knew his father and brothers would. Rescues and firefighting in high rise buildings were always incredibly difficult, demanding on both man and machine. "Give me all the details you can so I can relay it to our rescue team."

"Understood. Here is what we know of the situation so far."

**

* * *

Gym**

**Tracy Island, A Few Moments Later**

Scott wiped some sweat from his forehead with a towel he held in one hand, while taking a swig of cool water from a bottle he held in his other hand. _One more set,_ he thought, _then I can leave the bench and do a back exercise._

"You okay, Scott?" Gordon asked from where he was running on one of the treadmills. He generally preferred to use the treadmills and stationary bikes to the free weights and weight machines – though he was no stranger to them, either. He just didn't pump iron as much as his older brothers did. _Just like Alan has started to_, he thought, remembering that his younger brother had added weight training to his kick-boxing for fitness. He knew that, between those two pursuits, his younger brother was getting surprisingly strong for a sixteen-year-old.

"I'm fine, Gordon," Scott answered, putting his towel and water bottle down. "It's just I haven't lifted this heavy for a few weeks. What about you? Are you going to lift any weights today? You haven't used them for a few days."

"Nah, not today," Gordon replied. "I'll do strength training next week."

"Okay," Scott answered with a shrug of his broad shoulders. Lying face up on the bench, he reached up and gently lifted the barbell off its rests again. For a moment he held it stationary then, slowly inhaling all the while, lowered the heavily weighted bar down till it touched his chest just above the line of his nipples. Then, exhaling, he pressed it back up to the starting position.

Gordon watched as Scott started bench pressing again. He couldn't help but be impressed at how strong Scott was. Scott almost matched Virgil for raw physical strength. The Tracy family's resident artist had the edge in physical strength having played football in both high school and college.

At that moment the International Rescue alarm began wailing throughout the villa and Gordon groaned.

"Oh, man," he moaned, stopping the treadmill. "That alarm has absolutely rotten timing."

"I know," Scott replied, returning the barbell to its rests before standing up. "Come on, let's go and see who needs our help this time."

**

* * *

Main Complex**

The moment the alarm began to sound its urgent, wailing cry, Jeff Tracy stopped dead in his tracks with a resigned sigh. Sometimes he really hated that alarm's timing; he had been heading to kitchen to help himself to a mug of coffee. Now it looked like he wasn't going to get one.

Jeff spun around and raced back to his office, taking only a minute to get back. He walked around his desk and slid into his seat before pressing a hidden control. A panel slid out from the desk and he placed his hand on the palm scanner on its surface.

"Activating command and control," the female voice of the island's computer said as all around, the room began to change. "Activating command and control."

Jeff sat back as, in a mere matter of moments, the room changed from his personal office and sanctum into the high tech command centre of International Rescue. No matter how often he'd seen it, he was always thoroughly impressed with Brains's inventiveness in designing the room's ability to change function so quickly. As soon as the transformation was complete, he reached out and keyed a control on the console that had replaced his desk, answering the incoming emergency transmission from Thunderbird Five.

"What have we got, John?" he asked the moment John's handsome features appeared on the communications screen. "Tell me it is something we can deal with quickly."

"Don't kill the messenger, Dad, but this one is a nasty one," John replied apologetically. "About thirty minutes, ago a series of explosions ripped through the Raykier Building in Mexico City. At last report, four levels of the tower are completely engulfed in flames. There are people trapped on all the upper floors and at least one person trapped in a lift between levels."

"You're right, that does sound a very nasty situation," Jeff answered as he saw Virgil come running in, followed a moment later by Scott and Gordon. It didn't escape his notice that Scott and Gordon were dressed in workout clothes and caked in sweat; they'd obviously been in the middle of a workout when the alarm had gone off.

"What are the local emergency crews doing?" he asked.

"Fire crews have entered the building, Dad, but they are not having much success containing the blaze. None of the building's fire control or containment systems are operating; it looks like whoever caused the explosions has disabled them somehow. Everything so far points to sabotage; there is simply no way a fire could be so strong or spread so fast in a building like the Raykier otherwise."

"I see. The sabotage is not our concern; the people trapped are," Jeff replied as Brains came running into the room. "All right, John, call them back and tell them that we are on our way."

"F-A-B, Dad," John answered and broke the connection from his end. Jeff stood up and walked around the console to join his waiting sons.

"Okay, boys, lets get going," he said as Brains took his place running command and control.

"Where are we going, Dad?" Scott asked as he turned and headed for his portrait.

"Mexico City," Jeff replied. "There's a major skyscraper fire with people trapped on the upper floors and in lifts; emergency crews can't get past the fire to get to them. We are their only hope."

"Oh, brilliant," Gordon said, seeing their portraits slide up into the ceiling, revealing individual lift compartments. "I hate high rise jobs."

"Don't we all," Jeff replied as they all stepped into their lift compartments. The light shining in the compartments belonging to Jeff, Virgil and Gordon turned green to indicate they were going to Thunderbird Two, while the light in Scott's changed to blue to show he was going to Thunderbird One.

As soon as he was confident that they were all in place, Jeff spoke the coded command that would start the lifts moving.

"Thunderbirds are go," he said. The lift doors closed and the portrait panels slid back down as the lifts began their journey to the silos.

Smiling softly, Brains watched them go. Then he turned his full attention to the procedures necessary to safely send the Thunderbirds off on another life-saving adventure.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight **

**Thunderbird One **

**Mexico City **

Scott grimaced as he dropped Thunderbird One's speed to subsonic and surveyed the skyline of the city. The Raykier Building was easy to spot; not only did it tower over all the other skyscrapers in the city, but the plume of thick, acrid smoke rising from it made its position perfectly clear.

Scott guided Thunderbird One closer to the blazing building and probed it with his sensors. The situation had definitely worsened in the twenty minutes since they had been called. Five of the Raykier's floors were now completely engulfed in flames, with part of a sixth floor burning as well. Even from here he could see how intense the inferno was. _How long can the Raykier's structure withstand heat that intense?_ he thought.

Though an ultramodern building, and designed to withstand everything from earthquakes to terrorist attack, the Raykier Building would have a breaking point. All buildings did. If the fire wasn't put out, then eventually key structural supports would give way and the Raykier would fall, and kill everyone who was still inside. _We can't let that happen,_ Scott thought, _though putting out a fire of this magnitude and saving the people it has trapped is going to be very difficult even for our equipment._

After a few more moments of carefully scanning the building, and locating as many of the worst hotspots as he could, Scott sighed and changed the sensors focus to ground scan. He needed to locate the field command post that the emergency services had set up. After a moment, he found it in the open air car park of a shopping mall three blocks from the Raykier. The ground scan revealed that the parking area was almost completely empty aside from the emergency service vehicles. Those were all clustered together near the control area, near the entrance. _Perfect,_ he thought, _there's plenty of space for us to land._

With ease born of long experience, he got Thunderbird One moving again. He guided her until she was stationary over a clear area of the car park. Then he deployed her wings into landing position, before flipping the switch that lowered and locked the landing gear. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly to steady his nerves. Though the diagnostics had shown that everything was in order, he was a little nervous about his first field landing with the new shock absorbers in the landing gear. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought as he engaged the VTOL jets.

Thunderbird One descended from the sky with easy grace. She set down on the ground with only the faintest of shudders. Scott smiled softly in relief; the new shock absorbers were working like a charm; no unforeseen problems had occurred with them. Scott's hands danced across the control panels, powering most systems down to stand-by mode. The only system that remained at full power was the stealth system that prevented Thunderbird One from being tracked, scanned or photographed.

_Here we go,_ Scott thought as he stood up. Then he headed to the back of Thunderbird One's cockpit to get his helmet, breather pack and Mobile Control out of the storage cabinets. As he started getting out his gear, his mind began working on the possible ways they could rescue the people trapped in the burning Raykier skyscraper. He knew that it wasn't going to be an easy task, not by a long shot.

**

* * *

Benson's Hiding Place**

**A Few Minutes Earlier **

Benson smiled softly as he heard the distinctive sound of Thunderbird One's awesomely powerful engines. _Right on time,_ he thought. He had been monitoring all emergency service communications channels around this area. They had amusing to listen to as the emergency services futilely tried to deal with the situation he had so carefully engineered. One of the many communications he'd overheard was the call to International Rescue. He admitted to himself that the Mexican authorities had taken longer to call for the help of the mighty Thunderbirds than he had originally guessed.

Moving slightly from where he was hiding - between two large air-conditioning units - Benson was able to get a clear look at the Raykier Building. The incredibly sleek form of Thunderbird One hovered, stationary. Benson guessed that her pilot was scanning the Raykier, determining the situation inside the tower. The pilot, whoever he or she was, was currently in the perfect position for him.

Benson grinned as he returned to the location where he had set up Doctor Avoki's relay device. He retrieved the control pad for the relay from his pocket and activated it. A green light appeared on the control pad; for a few moments the light flashed repeatedly then became solid as the relay established a link with the nanospiders hidden inside Thunderbird One. Another light appeared on the control pad and the pads small LCD screen lit up with a progress bar. After a moment, parts of the bar turned red to indicate that the relay was receiving a high-speed, compressed datastream transmission from the nanospiders. _Come on, come on,_ Benson thought, seeing the transmission was only ten percent complete. _The Thunderbird won't stay in optimum position forever. Come on, you stupid, little mechanical arachnids, get your transmission butts in gear._

For Benson, time seemed to slow down to a virtual crawl as he watched the progress bar creep ever closer to one hundred percent complete at a virtual snail's pace. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the data transmission from the nanospiders to the relay was complete. The connection between nanospider and relay automatically disconnected, just as Doctor Avoki and his team had intended it to. While they believed it highly unlikely that International Rescue would be able to detect the extremely low frequency transmissions used by the nanospider technology, they weren't about to take any unnecessary chances. International Rescue did have the best sensors and communications equipment on the planet after all.

A change in the sound of Thunderbird One's engines drew Benson's attention to the burning building again. The incredibly advanced flying machine was moving off, no doubt going to find somewhere to land nearby so the Thunderbirds could do their thing. It didn't matter that she was leaving now; he had already accomplished his mission. _Time to go,_ Benson thought, moving back to where he had been hiding to get his tool kit. Before he could leave this area, he would have to dismantle the relay device and put the component parts back in their carry case, ready for the next time the relay was needed. Thankfully, that wouldn't take long at all.

**

* * *

Mobile Control**

**Ten Minutes Later**

Scott grimaced as the results of the simulation he had just run appeared on his screen. From the moment he'd arrived, he'd known that the biggest obstacle they would face to getting the people out of the Raykier Building alive would be the fire that was slowly and steadily consuming the huge tower. The simulation showed him just how big a problem it was going to be and how little time they really had.

The simulation predicted that at its current rate of spread, the inferno would engulf ten floors of the tower within another hour. Factoring all known data on the Raykier and the materials used in its construction, plus the data from Thunderbird One's sensors, the simulation projected that it would take ten floors aflame to seriously weaken the structure. Once that occurred, the Raykier Building would begin coming apart from the inside as key structural supports began to buckle from the intense heat. Fireproofing only went so far. Eventually, it would burn off, leaving the naked girders exposed to heat that rivalled a blast furnace for intensity. Once enough of the metal girders buckled, the Raykier would collapse in upon itself, plummeting to the ground and becoming a heap of smouldering rubble. The simulation estimated that final, complete, catastrophic collapse would occur within two to three hours.

_That's not going to be enough time, even with our equipment,_ Scott thought. _We're going to have to do something to contain if not extinguish the fire. That's_ _not going to be easy._ He sighed to himself and thought for a moment, mentally reviewing all the different equipment that he knew Virgil would be carrying aboard Thunderbird Two. _The Hornets!_ he thought in sudden realisation. _They would be perfect for the firefighting/containment task. It is one of the functions they were designed to fulfill after all._

The Hornets were small, self-guiding drones about a meter long and half a meter wide. They were equipped with powerful miniature rotors, heavily miniaturised hoverjet engines, sophisticated sensors and an interchangeable, mission specific pod section. They were perfect for scouting or for jobs that would be too difficult or dangerous for him and his brothers to deal with. Not to mention the small drones could get into places that people couldn't. The Hornets were one of Brains' newer inventions – they'd only been used a handful of times – but they were such useful and versatile tools that Thunderbird Two now carried them as standard equipment.

With a quick command to Mobile Control, Scott opened a communications channel to Thunderbird Two.

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two," he said into his helmet microphone. Almost immediately the helmet speakers crackled to life.

"Thunderbird Two to Mobile Control. Reading you loud and clear, Scott," Virgil responded. "How does it look there?"

"Not good, Virgil," Scott replied. "The fire burning inside the Raykier Building is extremely intense. We are going to have to either completely extinguish it or at very least contain it before we can even think of getting people out of there."

"That bad?"

"Yes. I just ran a simulation with all known information. According to the projections, if the fire is left to burn unchecked the Raykier will undergo catastrophic collapse within three hours. We have no choice but to do something about the fire if we're to have any time at all. What's your ETA?"

For a moment there was silence over the communications link, the only sound being the soft buzzing of the carrier signal. Scott knew though that Virgil would almost certainly be working with Dad to determine Thunderbird Two's exact ETA to the Danger Zone.

"Scott, we make our ETA to Danger Zone to be ten minutes," Virgil said at last.

"F-A-B," Scott replied. "How many Hornets are you carrying?"

"Eight."

"Okay. Here's what I want you to do; send someone back into the pod bay and get those Hornets configured for fire suppression. We are going to need them to deal with this fire in the Raykier Building."

"F-A-B, Scott. Gordon's heading back to the pod bay now to get them ready."

"F-A-B."

"ETA now nine minutes, Scott."

"F-A-B, Virgil. See you in a few minutes."

"See you in a few minutes, Scott." The channel closed with a bleep. Scott sighed and looked in the direction of the burning skyscraper. _Hold on,_ he thought to the people inside, _just hold on for a little while longer. We just hold on for a little while longer. We'll soon have you out of there._

**

* * *

Satoza Enterprises Headquarters Tower**

**Manhattan, That Same Time**

Alexander Satoza leaned comfortably back in his office chair and smiled at the news feed he was watching on his computer screen. Naturally, the top news story of the day so far was the fire at the Raykier Building in Mexico City and the recent arrival of Thunderbird One on the scene. _Excellent,_ Alexander thought, smiling, _Benson has really outdone himself this time. I must remember to give him a bonus for this one._

In causing the massive fire at the Raykier Building, Benson had not only brought about a disaster that International Rescue would attend to – which is exactly what Alexander wanted them to do – but he had also engineered a situation that would benefit Alexander in other ways. The Raykier Corporation was a long-term rival to the freight transportation arm of Satoza Enterprises; the destruction of the Raykier Building would seriously weaken that competition, possibly even cause Raykier to lose some of its lucrative contracts. If that happened, Satoza Enterprises would in the perfect position to snap up those contracts as they became available. Benson had really chosen his target well; Alexander would be sure to reward him generously for the favour.

A buzz from the desk intercom terminal made Alexander jump, slightly startled. With a quick command to his computer, he muted the audio part of the news feed, before reaching out and pressing a button on the offending intercom panel.

"Yes, Ms Thomas?" he asked.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but Doctor Avoki is here to see you," his secretary replied. Alexander smiled as Ms Thomas spoke; he had been expecting the good doctor to come and see him sometime today.

"Very well, Ms Thomas… send him in."

"Yes, sir."

The intercom went dead. Alexander straightened up in his chair into his familiar, all-business pose, and switched off the news feed. After a moment, the door to his office opened and Doctor Avoki came in, carefully closing the door behind him.

"Ah, Doctor Avoki! Good to see you," Alexander said, smiling warmly as the tall, lithe form of his chief scientist approached his desk. "Please, sit down."

"Thank you, sir," Avoki replied, sitting down in the offered seat, directly opposite Alexander.

"I take it you have something to report to me about our little project."

"Yes, sir. We have received the first encrypted databurst from the nanospiders. Preliminary information indicates that the amount of data they were able to gather from studying the inside of Thunderbird One is staggering and incredibly detailed. Even better than we could have hoped for."

"What is it like?"

"We are still in the process of decrypting most of the databurst, but what little I've looked at so far is well and truly amazing. Whoever created the Thunderbird is a genius. Once the decryption is complete, I will make a copy of it for you to keep and view yourself."

"Thank you. Do you think you'll be able to recreate the technology for me, Doctor?"

"I believe so, yes. My team is already working on a few ideas for commercial applications of the technology."

"Excellent! Then the plan can continue. When will the next set of nanospiders be ready for deployment?"

"We have unfortunately had a bit of a glitch which has slowed down the production somewhat. Three nanospider pairs were effectively useless; they refused to accept any programming and had to be destroyed. We have corrected the error and have begun making more nanospiders. I estimate that the next group will be ready for deployment within the next two weeks."

"I see. Well then, Doctor, I had better let you go back to work. I trust you have made sure that the glitch cannot happen again."

"Yes, sir, I have," Avoki replied, standing up.

"Good. Dismissed."

Doctor Avoki nodded and quietly left the office. Alexander watched him go with a smile, then he brought the news feed back up, just in time to see the blurred form of Thunderbird Two coming in over Mexico City. _My plan advances nicely,_ Alexander thought, _International Rescue seems blissfully unaware of the existence of the nanospiders. Soon the technology of the Thunderbirds will be mine. Then I will become the richest man in the world._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**Thunderbird Two**

**A Few Moments Later**

Gordon Tracy didn't look up from his work as the soft shudder of landing ran through the deck beneath his feet. _Almost done,_ he thought as he slotted a fire suppression/control pod into Hornet Seven. The pod locked home with a soft, almost inaudible click and lights on the side of the drone came on, some of them pulsing for a few moments as the Hornet's control processors ran self diagnostics. Finally the lights went solid as the drone's processors confirmed that all systems were operational. _Excellent, _Gordon thought, _seven down, one more to go._

He was just starting to prepare the last Hornet when the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. Gordon ignored them and continued working on the complex drone. He was just about to fit the mission pod when Jeff appeared in the pod bay section where they kept specialized equipment.

"How's it coming, Gordon?" Jeff asked.

"Almost ready, Dad," Gordon replied, not looking up from his task. "I'll have this last Hornet ready in another few moments."

"Good. We passed the Raykier Building on the way in. It looks like the situation in there is getting worse."

"The fire has spread some more?" As Gordon spoke, the pod clicked home and the Hornet drone began running its self diagnostics.

"Yes, it has. Six floors of the tower are now completely engulfed by the inferno. It's only a matter of time before a seventh floor starts to catch as well."

Gordon grimaced as his father spoke, knowing that they were running out of time to affect this rescue. They didn't even know exactly what Scott wanted them to do yet. All they knew of Scott's plan at the moment was the fact that they would use the Hornets to extinguish the fire.

"Looks like we are running out of time before we even get started," Gordon said at last, before looking down at the Hornet again. _I hope the Hornets are up to the task,_ he thought. _Putting out the fire in the Raykier will be their toughest test so far._

"Is that Hornet ready now, Gordon?"

"Yes, Dad, it is. All diagnostics confirm that the Hornet is ready to go slay the dragon."

"Excellent," Jeff replied, laughter in his voice from the amusing metaphor that Gordon had just used. "Let's go and get into the rest of our gear. Then we can go and see what plan Scott has come up with."

"F-A-B, Dad."

Jeff smiled, then left to get into the full field gear of helmet, gloves and breather pack. Gordon followed just behind him, silently hoping that the Hornets would be able to put out the fire.

**

* * *

Lift 19**

**Raykier Building, A Few Minutes Later**

Dismay sunk upon Diana Kingsfield as her latest attempt to call for help ended in failure – just like all the others had. No matter how many times she pressed the emergency alarm button, the lift intercom panel remained stubbornly silent. She was beginning to wonder if she was the only one left alive in the Raykier Building. _Has everyone else been killed by the explosions and the fire,_ she thought.

Diana knew there was a fire somewhere on one of the levels below her current position. She could smell things burning, things that weren't meant to burn. The stench was awful and even starting to think what could be burning turned her stomach and made her want to throw up. Another tell tale sign was the fact that the air temperature in the lift car was rising. It wasn't unbearable yet, though.

Abruptly there came the thunderous roar of another explosion; the lift car and the tower immediately shaking violently. Diana bit back a scream of terror as she suddenly feared the emergency break's would fail and send her plummeting to her death. After what seemed like an eternity – but was in reality only a few seconds – the shockwave died away. _What was that?_ Diana thought then answered her own question. _Another bomb must have detonated._

Diana sighed and reached out to hit the alarm button again. The alarm buzzer went off as always. She waited and prayed for the intercom to activate, all the while knowing that it was probably going to stay silent. Consequently, she was surprised when the intercom panel crackled to life.

"Hello," she called out, hoping for an answer, and that it was not some malfunction spawned by the fire. She was not disappointed.

"This is field control for the Mexico City Fire Department," a strong male voice said from the intercom. "We are aware of your situation. Can you tell us exactly where your lift car is stranded?"

"I'm not sure," Diana replied. "All the level indicators have gone dark; there is only emergency battery power in here. But from the heat rising from below I would say I'm above the fire. Please, you've got to get me out of here."

"Do not worry, miss; we will. International Rescue has arrived to assist. Rescue operations will be commencing shortly."

_International Rescue!_ Diana thought as a profound sense of relief and hope swept through her. Those two words made all the difference, lifting her out of the depths of despair. _If anyone can save me, it's the Thunderbirds,_ she thought, a smile coming to her face.

"I understand."

"Do not worry, miss. We will soon have you out of there and safely back on solid ground."

_I believe you will,_ Diana thought. Now that the Thunderbirds had arrived and were getting ready to do their thing, she knew her chances of getting out of this alive had just gotten a lot better.

**

* * *

Mobile Control**

Not for the first time since they had first started International Rescue, Scott found himself wishing that the visors on their uniform helmets weren't one way transparent. Then he would have been able to study the expressions on the faces of his father and brothers as they thought over the details of the plan he had just outlined.

The plan he had developed looked simple on Mobile Control's computer screens; the reality was very different though. Scott knew that it was going to be a difficult plan to implement.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked at last.

"It's a good plan, Scott," Jeff answered. "Are you sure that restoring power to the lift rails once the fire is out will work?"

"According to schematics for the Raykier it should, Jeff," Scott replied. "The main power lines to the lift rails were knocked out by the blasts that started the fire. Emergency power is out as well, but according to the schematics there are manual power terminals to connect portable generators to the lift rails. There are three terminals but only two are accessible; the third is on a level that's been engulfed by the fire. The two that are still intact will be enough to pull lifts either down or up to the levels they're located on."

"In other words, the top and ground floors of the tower," Virgil said.

"Precisely. Now, the local rescue services assure me that they can handle the ground floor power terminal. We just need to do the one at the top of the tower."

"And we can get at the top floor via the maintenance door that you mentioned," Jeff added. "The one the maintenance techs use to work on the telecommunications mast."

"Getting someone inside through that door should be easy enough," Gordon agreed. "We just lower them and the appropriate equipment down in the rescue platform once the Hornets have put the fire out."

"Exactly," Scott answered. "Are there any more questions?"

One by one, Jeff, Virgil and Gordon shook their heads. They had no questions; they understood perfectly what they needed to do. Scott smiled, even though they wouldn't see it through his visor.

"Then let's get this done," he said.

"F-A-B, Scott," Jeff replied, speaking for all of them. Then he turned away, leaving the field command area. Virgil and Gordon followed, all three of them heading back to Thunderbird Two to get the rescue operation underway.

**

* * *

Thunderbird Two**

**A Few Minutes Later**

Virgil resisted the impulse to wipe imaginary sweat from his brow as he guided Thunderbird Two into position to deploy the Hornets. He had brought her right up close to the Raykier Building, so close that the fuselage was barely four to five metres away from making contact with a wall of permaglass windows. They were also only about a dozen floors above the inferno raging inside the tower, the upshot of that being that he couldn't see through the windows due to smoke, and was having to rely on instruments alone. The rising heat also produced turbulence, which caused a constant, rattling vibration throughout Thunderbird Two. This made keeping her in a stationary hover difficult, to say the least. Quickly, daring to take his hand off the control for only a moment, he reached out and flicked a switch on the panel in front of him.

"Dad, Gordon. We're in deployment position," he said into the intercom.

"F-A-B, Virgil," Jeff responded. "We'll deploy the Hornets now. Try and keep us steady."

"I'll do my best, Dad, but with all the thermal updrafts the fire is creating I can't guarantee it."

"Understood, Virgil; we'll be as quick as we can."

"F-A-B, Dad." The intercom bleeped once then went quiet as Jeff cut the connection. Virgil sighed softly and turned his full attention back to the controls. It was going to take all his concentration and honed skills to keep Thunderbird Two steady enough to safely deploy the Hornets.

**

* * *

Primary Pod Bay**

After signing off with Virgil, Jeff moved over to where Gordon was just putting the last Hornet in the deployment rack.

"How's it going, Gordon?" Jeff asked.

"Ready to deploy, Dad," Gordon replied, stepping back from the rack.

"F-A-B, then let's get this done quickly. Virgil won't be able to hold this craft steady for too long given what's going on not far beneath us."

"F-A-B, Dad," Gordon acknowledged as he headed over to a nearby control panel that he could use to send the Hornets on their way. Before he could press any buttons, however, both he and Jeff were thrown off their feet as Thunderbird Two shook violently. The shudder was accompanied by a distant rumble of what sounded like thunder from somewhere below them. After a moment, the craft stabilised as the shockwave passed.

"What was that?" Gordon asked as he picked himself up. Before Jeff could answer, Gordon answered his own question. "Some more of the Raykier's windows must have blown out."

"Must have," Jeff agreed as he got his own feet back under him. "The heat inside the tower must be extremely intense now to be blowing out permaglass windows like that. We're running out of time." Gordon nodded. Permaglass wasn't really glass at all but an immensely strong transparent polymer material that was almost indestructible. The fire wouldn't breach the permaglass – only lasers could do that – but it would melt the windows frames causing windows to blow out triggering a massive inrush of fresh air to the flames.

"Yes, well, the fire won't be a problem for much longer," Gordon replied as he operated the console. With a soft humming sound, one of the hatches in the floor of the bay opened, letting in an avalanche of heat and smoke from the inferno below. "Virgil, I'm deploying the Hornets now; hold her steady," he said into his helmet intercom.

"F-A-B, Gordon," Virgil replied. "I'll do my best."

"F-A-B," Gordon acknowledged before pressing another control. The launch rack moved on a powerful track along the ceiling, the same track that normally mounted the rescue platform. Once in position over the hatch, a powerful hydraulic arm lowered the rack out of the bay and aligned the docked Hornets onto their target. A final command to the console released the Hornets. The drones engaged their engines while, simultaneously, tiny magnetic catapults threw them clear of the launch rack.

"Hornets away," Gordon said.

"F-A-B," Jeff and Virgil acknowledged in almost perfect unison.

"Gordon, retract the launch rack and close the hatch before the bay gets full of smoke," Jeff said. "Virgil, move us away from the side of the tower."

"F-A-B, Dad," Virgil replied, his voice echoed a moment later by Gordon.

* * *

The eight Hornets launched toward the Raykier Building like a volley of missiles. They crossed the distance between Thunderbird Two and the burning building in less than a second.

A moment before the drones could slam into the side of the skyscraper and inflict even more damage; they came to a dead halt. For a moment, the drones hovered motionless then they deployed themselves into a ring around the Raykier. They descended through the smoke to the topmost of the burning floors; the permaglass windows were intact on this floor but they were no obstacle to the drones. From the tip of each Hornet, a slim but highly focused laser beam streaked forth and struck an individually targeted window. For a second, the panes of permaglass glowed brightly, resisting the power of the lasers, then molecular cohesion in the panes broke down and the permaglass disintegrated.

The Hornets shut down their lasers, even as air rushed in through the gaps they'd opened. The flames greedily sucked in the surge of additional oxygen available to them, roaring and growing bigger and hotter. Massive jets of flame blasted out through the opened windows; thick clouds of glowing hot gasses rising skywards even as the flames hungrily lapped at the sides of the tower. The mechanical brains of the Hornets paid the flames no mind, instead, with the single minded purpose only machines had; they went about the next phase of their mission.

Just above the laser beam emitter of each drone, a hatch opened and a small cannon muzzle emerged. For a millisecond more nothing happened then – in computer synchronised unison – each drone fired two golf ball-like projectiles into the inferno. The outer casings of the projectiles melted almost immediately under the intense heat of the fire; the inner plastic casing melted the moment it was exposed to the heat. Each sphere burst open like a miniature grenade, releasing the liquid dicetylene that they had contained, dumping it right onto the flames. Instantly, before the fire could boil it away, the dicetylene reacted with the air that was present and transformed into foam. The dicetylene spread rapidly, smothering the roaring flames and coating everything in a cooling blanket of greenish foam.

With one entire level of flame now extinguished, the Hornets began moving again, dropping down to the next level to repeat the entire process again.

**

* * *

Mobile Control**

**Five Minutes Later**

Scott smiled as data from the Hornets, relayed automatically via Thunderbird Two, reported that the last of the fire had been extinguished. The dragon that had been slowly consuming the Raykier Building had been slain. _Excellent,_ he thought, impressed that the Hornets had been able to do that so quickly, even though he was fully aware of their capabilities. _The Hornets have done it again. Brains was really thinking on all cylinders the day he invented them. Now we can get on with the next phase of this operation._

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two," Scott said.

"Thunderbird Two to Mobile Control. Go ahead, Scott," Virgil responded immediately.

"The Hornets have done it, Virgil; the fire has been extinguished."

"Already! Man, Brains really did a good job when he came up with those Hornet drones."

"You'll get no argument from me about that," Scott replied. "Now, Virgil, what I want you to do now is send a remote command to the Hornets. Have them move over to Thunderbird One and remain in stationary hover over her. We can retrieve them later; we haven't time to do it now. Then I want you to begin the next phase of the rescue operation."

"F-A-B, Scott. I'll tell Gordon to start hooking the rescue platform back up now. It shouldn't take long. I estimate we will be ready to send Dad and Gordon down into the Raykier in ten minutes."

"Okay, Virgil, let me know when you are ready. In the meantime I'll get the local rescue services moving."

"F-A-B, Scott."

The commlink with Virgil and Thunderbird Two closed down with a soft bleep. As he heard the sound in his helmet speakers, Scott stood up and headed over to where a number of city emergency service chiefs were waiting. The fire was now extinguished and Thunderbird Two was getting ready to deploy the rescue platform. It was time to get the locals moving on their part of the plan to rescue those trapped inside the Raykier Building.


End file.
